


Deceiver

by silverr



Category: Warcraft III, World of Warcraft
Genre: An Abundance of Lore, Anti-Villain, Betrayal, Burning Crusade, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Reclamation, Character Study, Continuity Repair, Cruelty, Deception, Dramatic Irony, F/M, Gen, M/M, Masks, Mind Games, Minor Canonical Character(s), Missing Scene, Novel, Revenge, Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited Love, Wordcount: Over 150.000, Worldbuilding, pretense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-02 00:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 167,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverr/pseuds/silverr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <hr/><p>As he watches adventurers intent on killing him battle their way through Magister's Terrace, Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider reminisces about his life. **  An attempt to reconcile the noble elf of Warcraft III with Burning Crusade storylines. Draws from and embellishes canonical characters and events. **</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Assembly Chamber (Selin Fireheart), Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** _Warcraft III_ and _World of Warcraft_ are the intellectual property of, and copyright to, Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. and are being used in this fanfiction for fan purposes only. No infringement or disrespect of the copyright holders of _Warcraft, World of Warcraft,_ or their derivative works, is intended by this fanfiction.
> 
>  **Category:** Although the tags refer to various relationships (canonical and otherwise), relationships are not the main focus of the work.
> 
>  **Character Tags:** More than a hundred canonical NPCs appear or are mentioned in this novel. Rather than tagging everyone, I've restricted the tags to those characters who either appear in multiple chapters or had a major impact on Kael's story. All characters are listed in the [Appendix](http://archiveofourown.org/works/362996/chapters/21162281).
> 
>  **Lore:** This novel is quite lore-intensive. For those who might need it, I put together a brief [cheatsheet](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1CojwrYxOpqaIlWq8O9fYi4SoibiBf7MvyHkqyQEnYGM/edit?usp=sharing) that summarizes relevant lore per chapter (although neither the novel nor the cheatsheet have been revised to align to current _Chronicles_ canon). 
> 
> **OCs:** Original characters (OCs) appear in minor roles from time to time. As some readers have said they look up any name they don't immediately recognize, I've identified OCs in the front note for any chapter in which they appear.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a band of adventurers begin an assault on Magister's Terrace, Prince Kael'thas recalls halcyon days on Sunstrider Isle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the time Chapter 1 was written (March 2014) Eldin Sunstrider and Prince Nallorath were semi-canonical.

.

.

###  _Prologue_

.

.

I saw you arrive, you know. Bowing and scraping to those smug, self-righteous traitors. Shattered Sun, indeed – they'll learn soon enough who shatters, and who does not.

And you – let me guess. You agreed to do whatever they asked you to do? without noticing that they gave you the menial, dangerous work? sent you to gather resources for their defenses while they stayed safe in their round little boxes?

And now they've sent you up here to kill me. Please don't tell me that all it took to acquire your obedience, to convince you to risk your life, was a little flash of gold? A few glittering gems? Disappointing, but hardly surprising: as well I know, greed and envy and ignorance and selfishness drive most of the world. I don't expect you to understand that, of course, not with your nearly-empty head echoing with dull watery dregs, and so I'll make it simple. _It's not altruism if you seek applause. It's not idealism if you've been told what to think. It's not loyalty if your services have been bought._

Yes, I knew you wouldn't like hearing these things: children never enjoy being chided. Still, I am certain that deep down you must know that it doesn't take courage to break into my sanctuary and attack those whose only crime is that they have been faithful to me.

Learn something from them, if you can, from my beautiful, strong people, as you see how fiercely they protect me. My Dawnblades, like my Sunfuries, are the face of true idealism, true loyalty. I've never bought their love. They give it – and their lives – freely.

So swagger all you want as you tread on their corpses, and know this: even if you are able to vanquish me, here, today, you can never destroy my legacy. In a thousand years the poets and historians will write, not of Kael'thas the Tyrant, or Kael'thas the Traitor, but of Kael'thas the Beloved, the Savior of his people.

_Anu belore dela'na._

_._

_._

* * *

_._

_._

~ :|1|: ~

_"Don't look so smug..."_

_._

How noble.

Five of you ambushing and slaughtering my Sunblades—and then shamelessly applauding yourselves. Applauding a "victory" that came about because the odds were in your favor from the start.

And now… I know what you've glimpsed just inside my sanctuary. I know you—like all the others that have come here before you—will claim you're doing them a kindness by ending their misery, but I hear and see you as you lure those wretched elves out to their deaths. Contempt and mockery and disgust. You think yourselves superior, even heroic, and that they—that _I_ —are aberrations, monsters that deserve to be put down?

Your tiny souls and parochial minds can never grasp that _true_ heroism is continuing to fight on, even when you're outnumbered, even after you've been weakened by betrayal, even when everything and everyone seeks to destroy you. You look at them and choose to forget that the _quel'dorei_ weren't always thus, that even the most wretched were once proud, noble, beautiful children of the sun...

.

.

As had been the tradition for thousands of years, the Ancestor's Day celebration concluded with a grand feast in the open air, and so the throngs of high elves gathered on Sunstrider Isle had spread brocade coverlets on the lawns and seated themselves on embroidered pillows. As always, the blessed light of Quel'Thalas transformed everyone and everything it touched, making colors more vibrant, conversation and laughter more musical, and the perfume of flowers sweeter. Above all, the gilded towers of the royal palace glowed, resplendent.

Some distance from the festivities, two princes stood in the quiet of Dath'Remar's Grove. Self-confident, high-minded, with a unshakeable resolve to serve their kingdom, they embodied the virtues of the Sunstrider line.

"So you've said your goodbyes?" Eldin asked, glancing toward the spire.

Kael'thas nodded. "Those that could be said."

"Did you —"

"No, I was told he's locked himself in his chambers and has told the guards not to admit anyone." Kael'thas kept his eyes fixed on the epitaph of the monument.

 _Here stands the shrine of_ _Dath'Remar, a fitting tribute to a noble elf. Let all who gaze on this monument remember his sacrifices for our people and his dedication to the cause of our continued survival. All who prosper in Quel'Thalas do so thanks to him._

"How strange," Eldin said. "He hasn't done that since — "

Once again Kael cut off his brother's words. "It's likely that he's caught up in some far more pressing matter," he said firmly, "and it would be disrespectful of me to interrupt him. Besides, it's not as if I'm going to Kalimdor." He glanced at Eldin, who was frowning. "Really, it's fine. My absence will hardly be noticed."

"It'll be noticed by me!" Eldin said, suddenly smiling as he clapped his hand on Kael's shoulder. "With you in Dalaran I'm going to have to find someone else to represent House Sunstrider at Convocation meetings!"

Kael forced himself to smile. "There are quite a few Sunstrider victims left for you to choose from."

"But none so gullible as you," Eldin laughed, then shook Kael's shoulder gently. "What is this false cheer? You are about to embark on a grand adventure!"

"Adventure? Hardly," Kael demurred. "Translations and research." Still, he was pleased. Most of his people considered elven magic and culture so superior to all else that they assumed he was leaving Quel'Thalas for Dalaran to apprentice with Magistrix Telestra — which was certainly part of it, she had been Nall's teacher and Aertin's peer and was considered one of the best living wielders of the arcane — but Eldin was one of the very few who knew the real reason Kael was leaving was to apply to the Kirin Tor, an organization that studied _human_ magic. Eldin truly understood and supported his excitement about the opportunity to study non-elven cultures and non-arcane magic.

It was an excitement Kael was generally careful to conceal. Despite hundreds of years of evidence to the contrary, most of the court still saw humans in general — and the Kirin Tor in particular — as little more than children, aping their betters and recklessly manipulating forces beyond their comprehension. It was an attitude he couldn't abide, but he had, after all, learned diplomacy from an early age, and so he pretended not to be offended by those that treated his move to Dalaran as if it was nothing more than an amusing diversion, the whim of a bored scholar. That view, at least, was preferable to those who accused him of exposing the Sunstrider name to ridicule and humiliation by shunning his homeland, or those who viewed his choice to live in a human city as an implied criticism of his father Anasterian's centuries-old reluctance to actively participate in the Alliance. Malicious gossip that saw intent where there was none. He'd once overheard someone accusing him of "attacking a throne he knows he'll never achieve!" How could they misjudge him so? He had no desire to rule.

"Translations and research?" Eldin laughed. "For me such a life would be torture." A breeze stirred the grove, shaking thousands of leaves as if in applause. "Learn quickly, little brother, for when I'm crowned I will require you by my side to advise me. And I _will_ have you by my side, even if I have to invade Dalaran and bind you in chains to drag you away from your books."

Kael smiled faintly. "The Kirin Tor won't look very kindly on that."

"They'll have to learn to survive without you."

"I appreciate the sentiment," Kael said. "but I'm a much better scholar than a warrior — and magical knowledge won't help you rule the kingdom."

"I disagree," Eldin replied. "By the time I'm king you'll have _twenty_ times the understanding of our human neighbors than anyone else in Silvermoon. And as for magic — well, considering that magic protects and defends the kingdom, you will be more than essential, I assure you." Eldin's face became uncharacteristically somber. "By the way, I heard some disturbing —"

"There you are!" A flurry of admirers surrounded them. "You're missing the festivities, Eldin!"

"Gently, gently," he said, "There's enough of me for everyone." He lifted a eyebrow at Kael. "Coming?"

"In a moment." Kael had never cared for crowds or socializing, an aversion that had intensified since his mother's death. He hadn't been able to admit even to Eldin that some of the appeal of Dalaran was that his work for the Kirin Tor was likely to require long hours alone in the libraries and arcane storehouses. He was looking forward to the luxury of silence.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a touch on his arm. Thalorien and Lana'thel.

"We grieve for your losses," Thalorien said quietly.

Kael nodded. "Thank you."

As they turned to go Kael found himself following. They walked to where a huge tapestry of red and gold had been spread on the lawn. Eldin sat at one corner, already surrounded by those who were investing in their futures by befriending a potential king. Kael supposed that he ought not to think that way. His brother was happiest in the center of a group: what did it matter if most of the group were sycophants?

"It's true!" Telonicus was saying, apparently half-affronted. "You'll see! One day machines will accomplish everything that magic can, and more easily."

"Good news, brother!" Eldin said with a laugh. "You can throw away your spell-books! Telonicus is going to build machines to do everything!"

Kael forced himself to smile. Eldin loved the spotlight so much it never occurred to him that others might not be as fond. "There would be great benefit in allowing such inventions to take over menial tasks," he said. "It would allow us to reserve arcane energy for higher pursuits."

"Forget higher pursuits," said an elder who was frowning at a blushing, dark-haired child awkwardly refilling the wine goblets. "If machines merely replaced the _incompetent_ I'd consider it a great service."

The child, stricken, almost tripped as he hurried away.

"I heard his mother petitioned to allow him to squire for Vranesh the Elder!" the elder said. "Can you _imagine_? Someone like _that_ attempting to associate with a noble-born?"

"It's not unheard of," Kael began. "Dath'Remar himself had—"

"Oh, kill me now! Not _another_ Dath'Remar story!" said a narrow-faced magister, pretending to faint. He was caught by the Farstrider sitting next to him — who had, with a typical Rangers' ostentatious disdain for the luxuries of court, seated himself on the grass rather than the tapestry.

Kael tamped down his irritation. "Well, of course it's hardly my intention to bore anyone, but it is, after all, Ancestors' Day. When better to remember such stories?"

"You have to realize, Dar," Eldin added, "a house as old as ours has accumulated quite a few stories over the millennia. Unless we take them out and shake the dust out and polish them up now and again they'll tarnish and decay."

It was apparent from the magister's expression that he was taking Eldin's comment as a subtle jab at House Drathir — which had been ennobled for less than a century — but he spread his hands and said with false graciousness, "But of course. Please continue."

Kael decided to forgo the Dath'Remar story, however, and the silence began to drag on until Kaendris asked, "Have you heard Voren'thal's latest?"

"Voren'thal? The poet?" Eldin leaned to take an apple from the tray, but Seyla, laughing, darted her hand in under his, snatched the apple, and said, "Allow _me_." She pulled a tiny ornamental dagger from the bosom of her gown.

Eldin winked at Kael. "How could I _not_ adore such a dangerous creature?"

Kaendris, apparently miffed that flirting had interrupted his story, said, "Some say he's gifted."

"Not much of a gift," someone scoffed. "if nothing he's ever predicted has come true."

"He says the same thing every year," someone laughed. "Obviously he's hoping someday events will occur that make his ramblings true."

"What does he say?" Kael asked, curious. He'd not heard about the prophesying: he'd read some of Voren'thal's poetry years before, and hadn't been impressed.

"Something about _'a pall, red and white and black, settling over the gold and green of Quel'Thalas' forests,' "_ Theron said.

Drathir scoffed. "So ridiculously vague it could apply to a hundred different things."

Seyla, who had used her dagger to score Eldin's apple, pulled the halves apart — and then dropped them with a cry.

A red and white striped mass uncoiled from the hollow center of the apple, oozing black from where the blade had cut it.

"Ugh, is that a worm?" Jurion asked, making a face.

"No," Theron said, picking it up. "It's a snake." He held the dying creature over the grass and crushed its head between his thumb and forefinger, then stood and carried it toward the forest.

"Must you always be so barbaric?" Drathir called after him. "One of us could have burned it to ash."

"No need," Theron said without turning around. He squatted next to a tree and appeared to be burying the snake in its roots.

"Well, there you go!" Drathir said to Eldin. "We just saw the prophecy fulfilled: the apple's skin was green, and the snake was red and white."

"With black entrails!" Telonicus added.

A few people laughed uneasily.

"I'm so sorry!" Seyla was almost crying.

"Not your fault, my love," Eldin said lightly, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, and then standing. "Please excuse us — my brother and I must make the rounds. We can't appear to choose favorites."

"But we _are_ your favorites!" Thalorien said.

Eldin smiled, then turned to Kael. "Shall we?"

.

At every pavilion, at every grouping, the people displayed such genuine admiration and affection for Eldin that Kael swelled with pride. What a superb king Eldin would make someday... whenever Anasterian saw fit to pass the crown to him.

"What do you make of that prophecy?" Eldin asked after they had left the Astromancer's Pavilion.

Kael shrugged. "It's as the others said. Such ambiguous words can be be wrapped around almost any event."

"You don't think it foreshadows some great calamity?"

"Calamity?" Kael started to laugh, but when he glanced at Eldin he realized that the question had been in earnest. "Why, what do _you_ think it means?"

"A death," Eldin said, looking uncharacteristically serious.

"Oh, that's —"

"Promise me you'll keep yourself safe in Dalaran?"

"Eldin, there's no — "

"If something happens, I need your word that you'll come back to help lead our people."

Kael felt a wave of dread wash over him, but it was quickly gone. "You have my word."

.

As Kael entered the portal chamber the next morning — he was leaving for Dalaran at last, he was buoyant with excited happiness — a black-haired child was waiting.

"Your highness," he said as Kael approached. "I was asked to deliver this to you before you left." He held out a scroll, magically sealed with the Sunstrider insignia.

"Thank you." Kael remembered the boy: he was the one who had been humiliated while serving wine. "You're going to be a squire?"

"No, your highness," he mumbled, dipping his head.

"No?" Kael asked as he slipped the scroll into his pocket. "You don't _want_ to be Vranesh's squire?"

"I mean, no, it's not going to happen."

"And why not?"

"My mother's first husband was Vranesh's uncle. My father was her second husband."

"I see." A friendlier Champion most likely would have been more accommodating of the request — coming as it did from his uncle's former widow — and more loosely interpreted the tradition that a squire be related to the Champion though active family ties, but the elder Vranesh was well-known for his inflexibility regarding the old ways.

The boy nodded.

"Well," Kael said, "would a word from me help your cause?"

"Oh yes!" The black-haired boy knelt and then bowed, his head almost touching the floor. "I could _never_ dream of asking for such a boon!"

"You _did_ not ask," Kael said, amused by the child's effusiveness. "I am offering. Your name?"

"Fireheart," the boy said as he stood. His face was red with embarrassment. "Selin Fireheart."

"Fireheart. A good name," Kael said, moving past the boy to the portal. "I will write to Vranesh. You must understand that I cannot command him to take you as his squire, but I will strongly suggest he re-consider his decision to refuse you."

Selin, his face radiant with happiness, said, "Thank you!"

"Is there anything else?"

Selin gestured at the scroll in Kael's pocket. "Please, your highness, I was asked to tell you to read that before you left. And to wait in case you had a reply."

"I see." Kael dispersed the sigil and opened the scroll.

Unsigned, the words appeared to be Anasterian's, although the handwriting was Eldin's. _I trust you will comport yourself with dignity and academic distinction,_ the message began, _as your brother Nallorath did before you, and relay to us any information about the long-term plans of our former allies you feel is relevant to the safety and prosperity of Quel'Thalas._

"You can go," Kael told Selin. "There is no reply."

.

.

* * *

 

 

_  Prologue posted 15 March 2012  
Chapter 1 posted March 2014; rev 5 January 2017 _


	2. The Assembly Chamber (Selin Fireheart), Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the attack on Selin Fireheart begins, Kael'thas reminisces about his early years in Dalaran as a new member of the Kirin Tor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that the Dalaran which currently hovers over Crystalsong Forest (or the Broken Isles) is "Dalaran 3.0." Dalaran, originally built 2800 years before the First War on the shore of Lordamere Lake in Hillsbrad, was damaged during the Second War (and subsequently repaired using an artifact called the Eye of Dalaran). This second Dalaran was utterly destroyed by Archimonde during the Third War; after being rebuilt, it was moved to Northrend (and, in Legion, to the Broken Isles of the Maelstrom).
> 
> OCs: Gimnar and Ramalket; everyone else is canon.

.

_._

~ : |2| : ~

_"You only waste my time!"_

_._

Surprised you, didn't he?

You thought Selin was helpless, didn't you? Thought his very life was being drained by those green crystals, and that he would thus be easily controlled and defeated?

I could say: _Things are not always as they seem._

I could say: _Jumping to conclusions too quickly can be dangerous._

I could say: _The view ahead is always hazy: life rarely turns out the way you imagine it will when you are young._

Clearly, those are lessons that you self-styled heroes must learn first-hand…

.

.

In retrospect, he had been wrong about Dalaran: almost every aspect of his years there was different than he had imagined it would be.

The first surprise came moments after he arrived. The Kirin Tor representative who met him, a stern bearded human named Gimnar, took him to an apartment in one of the city's towers. Luxuriously furnished, the sitting room, like the sleeping and ablution room, was empty.

"Am I to wait for her here?" Kael asked.

"Wait for who?" Gimnar was carefully polite.

"Magna Telestra. Is this not where she lives?"

"No." Gimnar looked shocked and disapproving.

"Forgive me," Kael said quickly. "In Silvermoon apprentices usually live with their masters, but of course this is not Silvermoon."

"No." Gimnar held out an envelope stamped with the symbol of the Kirin Tor. "Welcome to Dalaran, Prince Kael'thas. Come to the Violet Citadel once you have settled in. And call on any of us — or any Dalaran citizen — if there is anything you need."

"Of course. Thank you."

Once Gimnar had gone Kael opened the letter, which welcomed him as honored member of the Kirin Tor.

"How interesting," he murmured. "I've already been accepted before proving my expertise?"

In Dalaran less than a quarter of an hour, and he had already learned that the humans did things very differently.

.

After putting away the few things he'd brought with him, he took off the heavy red and gold embroidered Sunstrider regalia and put on the drab, almost threadbare brown and purple Kirin Tor wizard's robe that Eldin had jokingly given him as a gift. Such a simple action, and yet it felt so marvelously symbolic!

Once he had descended to the street he just stood for a moment, looking and listening and breathing deep. The sunlight seemed different than Quel'Thalas', much more silver than gold, and the air had a bracing crispness that sharpened his senses. He'd traveled outside Quel'Thalas before, but somehow knowing that this was his home now made everything seem exciting and new. Even the familiar _quel'dorei_ architecture was transformed by the proximity of so many non-elven faces. Best of all, when people walked around him — or even bumped into him — they did so as if he was simply a student of magic no different than any other in the city. It was exhilarating: for the first time in his life, he was free of the burden of being a Sunstrider prince.

There was a flower seller nearby, and as he bought a bouquet of ivy and Arathi amaryllis he asked — remembering to use Common rather than Thalassian — where Magna Telestra resided.

With a strange smile, the flower seller pointed to one of the city's taller towers, said that Telestra lived on the top floor, and wished him luck.

It seemed an odd thing to say, but Kael supposed it was just a quirk of the idiom.

.

"Kael'thas!" Telestra said as she opened the door. "I had no idea you were arriving today!"

"And I had no idea that I wouldn't be living with you," he said, handing her the bouquet with a bow. "I gather that's not done here?"

Telestra laughed. "Oh no no, they're _far_ too worried about master and apprentice falling into bed. Apparently they believe assigning separate living quarters makes that entirely impossible."

"Which makes humans either very advanced, or very naive."

Telestra laughed. "And they say your brother Eldin is the witty one."

As Telestra arranged the flowers in a vase Kael glanced around the room. No wonder the Kirin Tor had given him his own accommodations! Telestra's quarters were less than half the size of his own; with only a tiny alcove for ablutions and a narrow daybed that looked barely large enough for one, it seemed more a well-furnished prison cell than the living space of an honored magistrix. "How do you tolerate such a small living space?"

"It suits me," she said, turning to him with a smile. "I'm rarely bothered by city noises, and the view of the lake is spectacular. Now, sit down," she said. "I want to hear everything that's been happening."

"Of course," he said, "but first I must thank for you for this." He held up the letter from the Kirin Tor. "Though I _am_ surprised they let you talk them into accepting me without a demonstration of what I've learned."

"What?" Puzzled, she took the letter; as she read, her face pulled briefly into a surprised scowl. "Those—!" She clenched a fist, then composed herself.

"Is something wrong?"

"I should have seen it coming." She handed the letter back to him. "They're going to try to prevent you from having contact with me."

"Where does it say that?" Kael asked, re-reading to see what subtlety he had missed. "Is this another inexplicable human custom?"

"I know how to read between the lines," Telestra said. "By rescinding your need for an apprenticeship, they are indirectly saying that you have no need to train with me." There was a snap of bitterness in her voice.

"They've simply made a mistake, then," Kael said. "Of course I do! I've just recently chosen my specializations, and I haven't yet completed my training in the other schools of magic. I don't understand why they would want to prevent it! Does someone in Kirin Tor bear me ill-will?"

"This is a strike at me, not you," she said matter-of-factly. "I have enemies. A few dislike me because I am an elf, a few because I am a woman, but most because I've always spoken up when when I don't agree with Kirin Tor policies and practices. Obviously they're worried that I'll turn you against them."

"But that's ridiculous!" he said, half laughing. "Dalaran is a center of learning and research — you make it sound as bad as the royal court."

"And you expected it to be different?"

He sat on Telestra's couch, crestfallen. "Yes. I did."

She sat next to him and patted his shoulder. "Come now, there's no need to be so disappointed: I assure you, most of the Kirin Tor are simply harmless scholars. But you're not naive, Kael'thas: you know that wherever there is a concentration of power, there is maneuvering and intrigue. Your father has been cooling toward the humans since the day Thoradin died, and they know it. The Kirin Tor see you as their opportunity to remedy that; if they can nurture your goodwill, they hope you'll convince your father — or whoever succeeds him — to shore up the alliance."

"I suppose that's understandable," Kael said, "and I admit I did look forward to being an informal ambassador. However, I don't see what is accomplished by interfering with my training." He was angry, not just because of what Telestra was telling him, but also because of Anasterian's request to send back reports on the humans. So ironic: he'd left Silvermoon because he'd wanted to be on his own somewhere quiet, far from turmoil and scrutiny, and it seemed that Dalaran was going to put him front and center. He folded his arms. "In fact, I'm thinking I ought to be insulted that that they think they can flatter and bribe me into doing their bidding."

"I know you don't want to hear this, but the human world, human society, is fundamentally no different than our own." Telestra said as she went to her sideboard and opened a bottle of wine. "Whether you like it or not," she said, "being a Sunstrider means you will _always_ be treated differently, no matter _where_ you go. There is no way you'll ever be allowed to blend unnoticed into the crowd." She came back to the couch with two glasses. "Now, let's stop this gloomy discussion so that we can toast the newest member of the Kirin Tor."

He took the glass Telestra held out. "You're right. It's just that… I wanted to _earn_ my place in the Kirin Tor. Earn their respect through my skill. It's disappointing to have it handed to me. It cheapens it."

"Your idealism is admirable," she said, "but don't let it blind you to possibilities. In this case, it's more important what you do with the position you've been given than how you came by it."

"I respectfully disagree, Magna," he said, drinking the wine off in a gulp. It was strong, instantly warming his blood. "What good is power if the acquisition requires a compromise of principles?"

"Wisdom is knowing which principles apply to a situation, and which do not," she said, bringing the bottle to refill his glass.

"And which apply here?" he asked.

"I know you came here to learn about magic and not to engage in byzantine maneuverings, but in a city ruled by mages, you _must_ do both. Do both _well_ , and you'll be one of the Six in no time."

"The Six?"

"They're the real power in this city," Telestra said as she sat down. "But one step at a time. For now, let me tell you how I see the situation, and what I think your options are."

"Fair enough."

"The Kirin Tor are in a delicate position," she said. "They want to be able to take advantage of your royal connections and nudge you in the direction they wish, but this will require a light hand in order not to antagonize you." She sipped her wine. "They will know soon — if they don't already — that you have talked to me. Don't volunteer the information — but if they ask, don't lie to them."

Kael nodded.

"As I see it, there are two approaches you can take. The first is to remind them that you might one day be High King of Quel'Thalas. Tell them that you know what they were attempting to do, assure them that you are sympathetic to their cause, but state firmly that you will not tolerate being manipulated. Finally, tell them that you intend to become my apprentice." She added, "Make it clear that I am under your protection."

"That would be a reasonable course of action," Kael said, "except that surely they must know that I, along with most of the kingdom, support Eldin as my father's successor?"

"That is irrelevant," she said. "An assertive show of strength will let them know that they have seriously underestimated you. Unfortunately, it will also put them on their guard, and make them much more devious."

"And the alternative?"

"The alternative is more subtle. Rather than potential king, be the scholar-prince. Show them that you're pleased that they have accepted you into their brotherhood, accept any reasonable restrictions they impose, and give them just enough of what they ask for to keep them happy."

"And my training?"

"We'll forgo it for a few decades until they've been lulled into thinking of you as their loyal, obedient pet."

"Why would I use such trickery?"

"Because it's sometimes possible for a pawn to take out the most powerful piece on the board."

"I refuse to be anyone's pawn." _Even yours, Magna_ , he thought.

"Well, let's put such discussions aside and have dinner, shall we?"

.

Telestra was a good as her word: after bringing back a small feast from a nearby inn — "It's nice to eat something non-conjured now and again" — they discussed elven art and architecture, magical theory, how reluctant Anasterian seemed to be to relinquish the crown, the competition of various families to join the Silvermoon rolls, the personalities of the current members of the Convocation, and the various romances among his friends at court. That Telestra was so eager for even the most trivial news suggested that she had little regular contact with anyone in Silvermoon; if it was also true that she was ostracized by the Kirin Tor — which didn't make sense, she had been in Dalaran since its founding, teaching magic to human and elf alike — then her life must be a lonely one.

"Magna," he asked. "Are you happy here?" It was late: evening had turned to night, the faint city noises had given way to the occasional hooting of owls, and the breeze that came through the open window was chill.

She shrugged.

"Why don't you return to Quel'Thalas?"

"I cannot."

"Why not?"

"It is not something I will discuss with you." It was like a heavy door slamming shut.

"My apologies," he said quickly, and then, wanting to move past the painful silence, asked, "What if I took a middle ground between aggression and meekness? If I don't tell the Kirin Tor that I'm meeting with you, won't they look the other way if they find out?"

"Perhaps," Telestra said thoughtfully. She went to the window and began closing the shutters. "If you're careful not to visit too often, I suppose there's a chance that the more reasonable archmages will convince the others it's an acceptable transgression for someone accustomed to the freedoms of royal privilege."

"So it's settled then!" Kael chuckled as he poured out the last of the wine. "I don't mean to sound disrespectful, Magna, but you made it sound as though they'd send assassins after me!"

"Don't underestimate them," she warned. "More than one person who has gone against them has mysteriously disappeared… still, I doubt you're in danger. You're far too valuable." She finished latching the shutters and turned from the window. "Teleporting here and back will be good transmutation practice for you."

"Teleporting? That seems excessive."

"Take my word for it, you _will_ be watched," she said. "Visiting me openly won't go unnoticed."

"I'll say that you're an old friend of the family."

Telestra laughed. "Well, that at least is true." She clicked her fingers to light the room's lamps, then came to sit next to him. "You do know what the gossips will say, don't you?"

"No," he said. "Say about what?"

"I have quite a reputation as a lecherous old magistrix," she said. "If no one knows you're my apprentice, they'll assume I've taken you as my new lover." She reached out and playfully tugged a strand of his hair.

"A new — they'll think _I'm…?"_ Part of him was shocked: another part coolly admitted that it was entirely believable, for although Telestra had to be nearly as old as his father, she certainly didn't look it. Probably was using subtle glamors to mask her age.

"I assure you," she said, playfulness gone, "although everyone in Dalaran will pretend not to know about your 'liaison' with me, it won't take long before Silvermoon is abuzz."

"My brother knew I planned to study with you, so he'll thwart any rumors. As to what anyone else thinks," Kael'thas said, feeling rebellious, "why should I care? Where I take comfort is no one's concern. "

Telestra regarded him fondly. "You certainly are a Sunstrider through and through. Soul of fire and silver-tongued and stubborn to the core. Just like your father."

He had never felt so honored.

.

Telestra had assured him that, other than necromancy, the Kirin Tor were likely to encourage him to pursue anything he liked. Curious to see how much truth was in this claim, when he presented himself at the Violet Citadel the next morning and was asked by the dark-haired human female who met him — she had introduced herself in surprisingly passable Thalassian as Magus Ramalket — what sort of work he wanted to do, he had replied, "I'll do anything that needs doing." As this seemed to be an answer for which Ramalket was not quite prepared, he then said, "Abjuration and enchantment."

"Oh?" Ramalket looked surprised. "Enchantment? Any weapon class in particular you prefer to work with?"

"No," he said. "I've had the most experience with swords and staves, but I've worked with bows and daggers as well." Despite all Telestra's warnings about the Kirin Tor's secret agenda he couldn't help but warm to the topic. "I've done some swordsmithing as well, if that's useful."

"Oh, yes, absolutely," Ramalket said. "As you can imagine, most of the time the items we receive are too badly battle-damaged to warrant repair, but we're chronically short of enchanters experienced enough to salvage anything useful from them."

Kael nodded. "I've been developing some new techniques for that."

"Oh, don't say that," Ramalket said with a wink. "I might have to chain you to the table in the weapons vault and never let you go."

"Threats already? It's my first day!"

"I can't help it," she countered, laughing. " _Make threat_ is on the checklist for new members."

An elderly gnome perusing the contents of a nearby bookcase turned and glared at her, and she said more quietly, "Would you be willing to work with shields? Or maces? Or axes?"

"Of course."

"Excellent," Ramalket said. "Follow me."

As they descended a spiraling staircase Ramalket said, "I should warn you, we have three vaults packed with items awaiting salvage. The archeologists have been busy with new sites in Tanaris and Northrend, and the number of axes and maces they're unearthing… well, I'm not exaggerating when I say we could probably use them to build a bulwark around the entire city." She unlocked a door in the narrow corridor at the bottom of the stairs, opened it, then conjured a handful of small floating light-spheres.

The vault was indeed "packed" with weapons: piled waist high, with only four narrow paths dividing the room into quadrants. Kael stooped to pick up a broken sword, cast a quick warding spell on himself and Ramalket, and then ran his fingertips along the flat of the blade: residual blood magic, most likely a life-draining enchantment.

"Now, I won't blame you if you want to re-think your offer after a few days and do something else," she said, distributing the light-spheres throughout the vault. "Most initiates find salvage boring."

"Nothing is boring if you look at it from the proper perspective."

"True."

He set the axe down and took up a mace. A tenth as heavy as it should have been for its size, in that peculiar way that the weapons of Light-wielders tended to be. The head was cracked and burnt, as if whoever had used it had taken down many many demons and infernal beings before they dropped it at last.

Ramalket eyed him. "You're certainly not what I expected."

"Oh? Why not?" A curved edge caught his eye, polished and dark and filigreed with glinting silver-gray like lightning against a night sky. Pulling one of the light-spheres closer, he bent to retrieve it. He'd never before seen anything made of such material; the shard hummed against his palm as if alive. "This must have been an extraordinary weapon," he said. "How unfortunate that it's not intact."

Ramalket laughed; when he looked at her she said, "Sorry, I just can't imagine any of the human princes…" She waved a hand, as if unsure of how to word her thoughts.

"Salvaging weapons?" Kael said. "I assume not many train as mages." He slipped the dark fragment into his pocket for further study.

"I don't think we've had _any,"_ Ramalket said. "Our kings and princes usually train as warriors. They don't like to stand at the back: they'd rather be up front where the action is."

Kael wondered if she'd meant this as a disparagement. "So do ours," he said carefully. "Which is why we train in physical combat as well as magical. My father wields both sword and staff."

"Yes, I've heard that," Ramalket said. "He must have been a formidable battle-mage."

"Yes," Kael said, "he is."

Ramalket bit her lip. "Oh, I didn't mean —"

"I took no offense," Kael said, easing another dark fragment from the pile.

"We have a few war-mages, but they don't usually lead the charge into battle," Ramalket said. "Sometimes paladins do, though usually only when —"

"When there is a crisis," Kael said, saving her from having to say _when the king has been slain_. "Well, I'd like to get started," he said. "Should I set up in here, or do you have a special place you'd like me to work?"

.

.

* * *

_first post 19 March 2014; revised 27 Aug 2014_


	3. The Assembly Chamber (Selin Fireheart), Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kael'thas encounters a mystery and loses someone dear to him.

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~ : |3| : ~

_My hunger knows no bounds! —_

_._

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Selin… To hear him now you'd never guess how timid he was as a child; but then I suppose as we grow older most of us become more confident in asking for what we want. What makes Selin different is that his greatest wish has been ever-constant: to bask in the radiance of those more powerful than he.

I almost envy him. To see your goal so clearly that every action takes you unerringly closer; to reach for what you want without flinching, paying any price, damning every consequence. To rage against the prejudices and conventions that hold you back…

.

.

And so it began. Day after day, weeks and months blurred into decades and then centuries. With Telestra's guidance he supplemented his magical knowledge, reading and practicing as much as he could on his own and only going to her when he had difficulties. At first he only visited her by teleporting directly to her room; but once he noticed that she was always alone he began instead to brazenly carry a bouquet of flowers or an ostentatiously-wrapped gift through the streets to her door, secretly delighted at the whispers he heard swirling in his wake. From time to time various Kirin Tor members would invite him to dinner, and very delicately dig for information… to which he always answered, quite honestly, that he wasn't privy to Anasterian's inner thoughts. He visited Silvermoon regularly, of course, but began to notice as he never had before how the silver strands in his father's hair were crowding out the gold. He met the newest consort (he always felt sorry for her: she was perennially with child, but the children she bore were sickly, some living only a few hours). He put flowers on their graves, and his mother's, and sat reading in Dath'Remar's grove. He was occasionally invited to banquet with his old Quel'Thalas acquaintances, although the number of such invitations dwindled more and more.

He mentioned this to Eldin.

"They're narrow-minded, judgmental prigs," Eldin said. "It's no wonder they can't think for themselves: there's barely half a brain between every ten of them."

"Judgmental? About what?"

"Your association with Telestra," Eldin said. "And I assure you, it wouldn't make a difference if you told them that you're not actually her lover. It's not what you two do in private, it's the fact that you associate with her at all." The last few words were garbled; Eldin winced, then took a small vial from his pocket and drank from it.

Kael, frowning, asked, "What aren't you telling me? Are you ill?"

Eldin shrugged and said hoarsely, "A sore throat that's lingered long enough to be annoying. Nothing serious." He tucked the vial back into his pocket. "There's always been a rumor that she was involved with father — but then, half the old grannies on the continent claim to have been to his bed, so I wouldn't give much weight to that particular story," he said. "Her defenders say she offered to go with Aertin and Nall to teach magic to the humans, but as this occurred not long after Prince Anasterian was betrothed to my mother — well, you know how the gossips are, they embroidered that as the flight of a discarded lover." He cleared his throat. "Personally, I think that the possibility that Telestra bore a half-elf son fathered by one of humans in Strom is what got her banished in perpetuity." He cleared his throat again. "From the look on your face I'm guessing this is the first you've heard of this?"

"I don't believe it," Kael said. "Any of it."

"Well, you know how people treat halflings," Eldin said. "Whether true or not, because of it Telestra's an outcast. You're becoming tainted by association."

"And what about you?" Kael asked. "Isn't my taint staining you as well?"

"Of course not," Eldin said. "I'm immune to stupidity."

.

That day when Kael stepped from the portal in Dalaran, he thought _It's good to be home._ In high spirits, he retrieved a book from his workroom, bought the flower-seller's rarest orchids, and then made his way to Telestra's.

To his surprise, she had a visitor, cowled and robed. The two were seated close, face to face; Telestra held the visitor's gloved hands.

"Oh!" Kael stopped in the doorway. "My apologies, Magna." He turned to go.

"Stay," the visitor said. It was a woman: her voice was deep, with a low, intimate timbre. "You've brought such beautiful flowers."

Kael felt his face reddening as it hadn't since he was a boy. Who was this woman?

Telestra said, "Don't do that to him," to the visitor, then nodded at Kael. "But do stay: she's leaving."

"I am?" the woman chuckled softly.

"You are," Telestra said. She stood, pulling the other woman to her feet, and they embraced.

The visitor held her cowl down, hiding her face, and took two long strides toward Kael, close enough to put her gloved hand on his chest.

The touch was electric, a surge of attraction so fierce that he wanted to take her in his arms and —

"Aegwynn!" Telestra warned. "I told you to stop that."

The mystery woman took her hand away. "Oh, don't worry, _shan'dor,"_ she said over her shoulder to Telestra. "I'm not planning to steal him." She made a grasping gesture with her hand. "See you soon!"

She disappeared.

Kael managed to remain standing as Telestra took the flowers and the book from him, then shakily lowered himself into the nearest chair. "Who was that?" What had she done to him? He felt as exhausted as if he had been battling for hours.

"A friend," Telestra said. "She needed someone to talk to." She set the flowers and the book aside.

"What did she mean, that she would see you soon?" Kael asked. "Will she be visiting again? Or are you going somewhere with her?"

"Don't pay attention to her mischief," Telestra said in the tone that meant that the previous topic was closed to further discussion. "You brought a frost magic book; did you have a question?"

"Yes," he said, well aware that he was several hundred years too old to sulk. "I can't seem to master anything but the shielding spells."

"Why does it matter?" Telestra tossed a handful of snowflakes across the room. "Frost doesn't suit you."

"But I want to master everything," he said.

"Come now," she said as a ring of ice exploded outward from her feet. "You know that's not necessary. What was the first fundamental principle of magic I taught you?"

"That the classifications and categories in common use are concepts created to make the study of magic easier for beginners," he said dutifully.

She conjured a small arcane sphere. "That's all the understanding you have? A single stale sentence?"

"No, of course not." He was surprised that Telestra was demanding that he review a basic magical concept he'd learned hundreds of years ago moments after she'd pronounced his difficulties with frost magic unimportant, but he trusted her: he was the student, she was the master. "All magic is fundamentally the same," he said. "That it appears as fire, frost, fel, nature, rune, or holy is a result of the entity channeling the magic, a natural extension of their personality, their strengths or weaknesses. How their spells manifest is determined by who they are, and amplified by the type of magic they're drawn to."

"Yes," she said, "no matter what the Kirin Tor wants the populace to believe, the truth is that magic is shaped far less by training than by the caster's fundamental nature—their soul, their spirit, their ruling deity, their motivation for using magic. Of course, if this became common knowledge the Kirin Tor would be out of business, and so they, like we, have encouraged the misconception that only a select few have access to magic."

Kael wondered where she was going with this.

"And yet," she continued, "no one seems to be asking why all around us those with no formal training are able to heal and shield their loved ones and sometimes even strike down enemies."

"Only under great duress—"

"It's as if we've forgotten that we're even using magic." She pointed her finger at the floor and made a swirling motion, creating a smoky pool of shadow.

"The gift of the Sunwell," Kael said, "the legacy of the Well of Eternity that our ancestors across the sea drew upon." The dark circle that Telestra had conjured tugged at him, as though trying to drain his energy. "Magic is woven into our flesh and blood."

Telestra shook her head. "I'm not so sure. I've come to believe that the Wells are more fuel than cause." She glanced at Kael. "By itself, a log does not initiate a fire: but if you have determination and a spark, you can coax it into giving you light and warmth."

"Are you saying," Kael asked, "that the Sunwell does not _give_ power, but rather allows it to be taken by anyone with the proper approach?"

"Something like that," Telestra said. "In my mind such an explanation better accounts for all magic users, from the humblest uneducated citizen to the most exalted archmages. The former are able to draw on the Sunwell's power — in a limited way, of course, and only in times of need — because they cherish their children and their homeland." She held her hand out over the whirlpool, and it shrank in itself until it disappeared.

"If that's true, untrained members of non- _quel'dorei_ races would be able to access low-level magic as well, as the impulse to protect one's children and one's lands is universal." Kael was finding the subject slightly distasteful.

"Of course it's true. Even the trolls have healers and evokers, which is hardly 'low-level' magic."

"You're not suggesting that the trolls are our equals?" Kael had never heard Telestra express such outlandish ideas before.

"Of course not. I think it's unlikely that they'll ever develop the same capacity to hear the music of the ley-lines as we do," Telestra said, "although I won't go so far as to say it's impossible." She quirked her mouth. "I told the Convocation as much once. What an uproar that caused!"

"I can imagine," Kael said. _No wonder you were banished,_ he thought, and immediately felt disloyal.

"I'll tell you why I don't think trolls will ever equal us in advanced magical matters — it's the same reason that the humans and dwarves won't. Their motivations are all wrong. They don't pursue mastery of magic because magic _itself_ delights them: most study it because they are driven by fear. For them magic is only a weapon to use against what threatens them, something to incapacitate an enemy so that they can run away. That's why the Kirin Tor focuses on frost, because it slows or freezes before it kills." Telestra snapped her fingers and was haloed in ice. "It's almost pathetic, how much most humans fear magic."

"They don't all seem that way," Kael said.

"True, but the few non-elven mages that _aren't_ afraid of magic crave the power it gives them over others, which is why those races tend to have a disproportionate number of necromantic and fel magic users."

Kael shook his head. "And you've shared these insights with the Kirin Tor."

"Of course I have. Self-awareness brings clarity, and clarity is essential when studying the higher magics. I was doing them a service by pointing out truths and flaws they couldn't see for themselves."

"And," Kael said, "you did it because you enjoy goading them."

"Perhaps," Telestra admitted, summoning a swirling shield of flame that melted the ice.

"It's been a while since you pointed out _my_ flaws," Kael said, wanting to move to a less problemmatic topic. "I'm sure I have at least one or two areas that need improvement."

Telestra watched him for a few moments through the shimmering fire before she answered. "No, you are quite nearly perfect. That's why I was so disappointed at first that you were drawn to abjuring and enchantment rather than something more powerful, for I honestly felt you were wasting your potential."

Her reply made Kael feel as if he were a child of four hundred again. "I see."

"Now now, don't get sulky until you hear all that I have to say," Telestra chided. "I said I was disappointed _at first._ As I came to know you, to understand your nature, I accepted that you couldn't have chosen otherwise. You have a regal heart, Kael'thas: you want to empower those who are able to fight, and to shield the weak or faltering from harm." Telestra sighed. "She was right: you might have made a fine Guardian."

"She?" Was Telestra referring to the mystery visitor, or someone else?

Telestra waved her hand in front of her face; her features shimmered, and the glamor that had disguised her age faded, wrinkling her skin and dulling her hair to dark gray. "Kael'thas, you have become extraordinary on your own terms, an accomplishment for which I can take little credit. I can teach you no more."

"That's not true!" Kael cried, pushing himself out of the chair. "I have so much more —"

Telestra shook her head. "No, I'm certain of it. I've decided. It is time for me to go."

"No!" he said, reaching to embrace her. "I can't — "

"Of course you can," she said, the fire shield fading as she patted his back reassuringly.

"There's no need to rush off this instant," he said, unwilling to let her go. "Stay at least another hour."

"No," she said as she pushed him away. "I should have left days ago, but I didn't want to sneak away without seeing you."

"I wouldn't have forgiven that," he said. "What am I going to do until you return?"

"Join the Council, when they ask you," she said. "Apply what you have learned, Grow ever stronger. And keep yourself safe."

And then she was gone.

.

_._

_ chapter posted 19 March 2014; revised 4 Nov 2015 _


	4. The Assembly Chamber (Selin Fireheart), Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kael'thas tries to learn where Telestra has gone, receives some unexpected news, is invited to join the Six, meets Rommath, and defends Dalaran during the Second War.

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~ : |4| : ~

_No! More… I must have more!_

_._

_._

Even from this distance, I can feel Selin's desperation as the power he took from the crystals fades.

You can't possibly understand what it's like for him: to be raised so high, to taste such sweetness, to _almost_ reach perfection… and then to feel it ebb as once again, your unceasing attacks shred his strength, his dignity, his very reason until he is just an empty, broken shell fading from existence, driven only by the need to find something to mend himself and keep himself from oblivion, if only for a few moments…

Yes, I, like all my people, understand Selin's desperation.

As for you — unless you have have borne weeks and years of such agony, unless you have been shattered, body and soul, over and over again — do not dare presume to claim that you understand us.

.

.

In the first months after Telestra left Kael'thas thought often about their last meeting. Although he was willing to admit that some might interpret her actions as evidence that she expected never to see him again — the topics they had discussed, the fact that she had shown him her un-glamored appearance — he preferred to focus on the fact that she had not said outright that she wasn't coming back. He decided that the most likely scenario was that she was traveling, possibly with Aegwynn. Undoubtedly they would contact him when they returned to Dalaran.

And so he applied himself to his research. One day, a crate he'd been sent from one of the Northrend sites held a stone carved with runes he had never seen before. He consulted the reference books — both his own and those in the Vault of Rare Tomes — but as he could find nothing helpful he teleported, out of habit, to Telestra's chambers.

The air was stale, and a fine dust furred every surface. On the table the desiccated remains of the orchids lay next to the treatise on frost magic; the window shutters were cemented shut with bird's nests. He'd though that he'd accepted her absence, but the sight of her neglected room made him realize how acutely he missed her.

Kael wrote to Eldin, asking him to query his gossip sources, but no one in Silvermoon had any news of her. He asked the flower sellers and the innkeepers' cooks: all but the oldest claimed they'd never even heard of her. He didn't think much of this until he began to bring her name up during conversations with his fellow mages, but when even the older mages pretended never to have heard of her he was certain he was being played. He began to teleport to her rooms frequently, each time searching for any sign that anyone but himself had been there, but he never found anything. The more everyone denied her, the more his memories of her gradually began to fade, and the more important it became to him to trace her whereabouts.

The only thing he could think of to do was to try to find out more about Telestra's mysterious visitor: perhaps _she_ knew where his mentor had gone. "Her name is Aegwynn," he told the Keeper of the Register.

"It doesn't sound familiar," the old mage said. He shuffled to the bookcase and took a thick, oversized leather volume from the shelf, then fastidiously traced his finger over each page. "No, I'm sorry," he said at last. "There is no one with that name in the Kirin Tor Register of Mages. Are you certain she is a mage?"

"I don't know," Kael said, watching the Keeper put the volume back on the shelf. "All I'm certain of is that she's a friend of Magna Telestra."

"Telestra?" The Keeper turned to look at him.

"Yes," Kael said with a half-smile, "but I'm sure you'll tell me she's not in the Register."

"There was a Magna Telestra once," the Keeper said slowly, "but she was struck from the Register almost two thousand years ago."

"I see." Telestra's comment — _More than one person who has gone against them has disappeared_ — echoed in his memory, and his pulse suddenly began to pound in his throat. "My apologies — I must have heard the names wrong."

"If you say so," the Keeper said. He now seemed much less doddering and much more sinister.

As Kael hurried from the Citadel out into the bright sunlight a hooded figure stepped in front of him. "Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider?"

"Who are you?" Kael shaded his eyes with his hand, but the face of his questioner was a black void, obscured by magic. "Why do you presume to question me?"

"How is it that you are acquainted with the name of Magna Aegwynn?"

The stranger didn't seem to be immediately threatening, although Kael was disconcerted that he could not could not identify whether they were human or elf. "I'm not. I… overheard a fragment of conversation as I was passing through the square." This much at least was true. "What I heard intrigued me. "

Waggling a gloved finger as in warning, the stranger said, "Never lie until you can do so convincingly!"

They vanished.

Kael, who had been about to retort that deceitfulness was hardly a princely virtue, was astonished and outraged by this encounter. It was one thing to be in scrutinized in Quel'Thalas — as a member of the royal family he'd grown up with it, and had learned to ignore it — but here? Who had the audacity to keep such close track on his movements, and why, and for how long? What would they do if he didn't meet their approval? It couldn't have been coincidence that they had confronted him moments after his discussion with the Keeper —but did it mean he was being watched by the Kirin Tor? If so, why reveal their surveillance now? Should he confront someone, perhaps even Archmage Antonidas, with the knowledge, and challenge him to explain himself? No, that was unconscionable if he was wrong. And yet what if he was not wrong? Was it best to pretend to ignore the incident?

Such machinations were not an area of expertise for him, but with Telestra gone there was only one person left whose advice he could trust.

.

Seyla met him at the portal at the base of Sunstrider Spire. "This was well-timed," she said, "I was just about to write suggesting a visit." She looked pale and worn.

"Where is Eldin?" Kael asked. "I thought he'd be meeting me."

"He's relaxing at the top of the Spire," she said, then put her hand on Kael's arm. "Before we go up… I assure you, his condition has much improved, but I wanted to prepare you so that you're not shocked by his appearance."

Stunned, Kael said, "Condition? When last I saw him he had a simple sore throat."

"It was more than that," she said as as they began to climb the stairs to the observation balcony atop the Sunspire, "but I'll have to explain it to you later. I don't want to keep him waiting."

.

Kael was grateful that Seyla had prepared him.

Eldin, wrapped in a thick robe, was seated on an invalid's chaise with a heavy coverlet tucked around his chest and legs. "Brother!" he said as soon as he saw Kael, making no attempt to stand. "What a surprise! What news from Dalaran?" Though in high spirits, he was distressingly gaunt in the face.

Seyla fussed over him a bit and then sat close, staring out at the toy-like buildings and walkways of Sunstrider Isle far below..

"Actually, I need your help." Kael related his encounter with the mysterious interlocutor, and then explained that he'd been making inquiries about Aegwynn. "Supposedly she's a friend of Magna Telestra's." It felt odd to withhold information from his brother, but then, the fact that he'd actually met Aegwynn in Telestra's chambers wasn't relevant.

"Aegwynn," Eldin said, as if savoring the name.

"You know her?"

"I know _of_ her," Eldin said. "There are many—including Convocation members—who would say she was the most powerful mage Azeroth has ever produced."

"They said that about a human?"

"I don't recall mentioning that she was human," Eldin said.

"You didn't," Kael said. "I must have read it somewhere."

Eldin gave him an indulgent look. "My dear little brother, your accoster was right. If you're going to withhold information, you're going to have to learn to suppress that guilty look."

"It's very surprising that the Convocation would regard a human mage so highly," Kael said.

Eldin chuckled. "And you're even less skilled at misdirection. Tell me the rest."

Chastised, Kael then admitted meeting Aegwynn the day Telestra had said farewell.

"Oh ho," Eldin said, sitting up eagerly with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I can read between the words. You took a liking to her! I don't blame you; by all accounts she was beautiful and very charismatic."

"No," Kael said. "I mean, yes, she intrigued me, but not by her appearance. She hid her face. And I wasn't attracted to her."

"Oh really?" Eldin was almost smirking. "Did I mention what a poor liar you are?"

Ignoring this, Kael said, "Telestra leaves the day Aegwynn appears. At first I was simply curious about how the two were connected, but the unexpected way people have responded to my inquiries has added a second layer of mystery." He shook his head. "It almost feels as though I have stumbled across some vast conspiracy."

"In a way, you have," Eldin said. "Three millennia ago, a secret organization was created to deal with the consequences of irresponsible and sloppy magical practices by the Dalaran magocracy." He paused. "The Convocation was involved with this organization initially, although references in the official records have been purged."

"What does that have to do with Aegwynn?"

"Because Aegwynn most likely is part of this organization, and Telestra's son might have been among the founding members."

"Telestra's son?" Kael said. "The half-elf?"

"I have a pet historian who claims that there are references in certain unofficial correspondence to a half-elf referred to as 'The Spearhead.' "

"Coincidence."

"Perhaps," Eldin said. "There's no way to be sure without confirmation from Telestra herself or one of the other founding members — assuming any are still living. The point is, if this organization is meant to keep the human population ignorant of how often they are being endangered by their own mages, no one in the Kirin Tor is likely to admit to its existence. Or to the existence of any of its members."

Kael nodded slowly. "If Aegwynn is part of this secret organization, and if Telestra has ties to it as well… I suppose that would explain how they became acquainted with each other, and why no one will answer my questions about them."

"It might explain more than that," Eldin said. "Think about it: Aegwynn and Telestra are extremely powerful mages. Separately, each is formidable enough, but if they have joined forces their combined power could be immense. I can well imagine your Kirin Tor sweating in their boots."

"And that's why I'm being watched?" Kael said. "Because they believe I will somehow lead them to Telestra or Aegwynn? If that's the case, why reveal the surveillance? All it accomplishes is to force Aegwynn and Telestra to take extra precautions."

"Unless that's the point," Eldin said thoughtfully. "To sever the possibility of contact. No, it must be someone other than the Kirin Tor, but as for who… well, all I can say is that they weren't one of mine, and I doubt they were one of Father's."

"What?" Kael asked. "Yours? Father's? What are you talking about?"

"Now _that's_ how you misdirect," Eldin said with a smile. "Seriously, Kael, did you really think we'd strand you, unprotected, in the wilds of Lordaeron? How could you think we'd be so heartless? We've had you guarded since the day you arrived in Dalaran."

"But I have never noticed — "

"Of course you haven't," Eldin said. "Protectors are meant to be invisible until they are needed." Eldin frowned. "I will say, however, that I am not pleased that I wasn't informed of this incident. To me, what you experienced was an indirect threat: to flash a knife at someone from across a room is only slightly less grievous than stabbing with it." He coughed, but when Seyla rose from her chair he shook his head.

"So I am in danger?" Kael asked.

"Perhaps," Eldin said, sounding hoarse. "Don't change your routine, but be watchfully cautious from now on. Show whoever is daring to menace you that Sunstriders do not cower."

A new thought occurred to him. "Eldin… could this lingering sore throat of yours be connected to whoever is shadowing me?"

Eldin shook his head. "I doubt it. The royal cooks have become obsessed with soups for quite some time — they rarely bring anything else to the table, I've almost begun to dread mealtimes! But to the point: we're served from a common tureen, and the seating is random. If the soup or the utensils or the plates were poisoned, others would have become ill as well." He settled his hands more deeply in his sleeves. "But that you even thought to ask about the possibility of attempted assassination is disturbing. Are the humans capable of such a thing? Do they think we were involved in the recent orc invasions?"

Kael hesitated before answering. "I wouldn't go that far. Certainly we aren't blamed for the destruction of Stormwind, but some are insulted that only a handful of rangers are being sent to assist King Terenas' Alliance."

"I don't see why," Eldin said. "If the humans are even reasonably competent, the orcs should never reach Lordaeron. The humans have rangers, and mages, and cavalry, and a navy. Against — what? Infantry and a handful of warlocks? From what I hear the orcs are ferocious in hand-to-hand combat, but overall they're disorganized, undisciplined, and outnumbered."

"And yet somehow they overran the southern kingdom," Kael pointed out.

"Relying on the element of surprise," Eldin said, "an advantage they no longer have. Combine that with the rumored in-fighting and struggles for leadership, and they may destroy themselves before long."

"What if they convince the Amani to ally with them — "

"I don't know why you insist on worrying," Eldin said. "Even if Doomhammer woos Zul'jin, our Ranger-General and her new pet will be waiting in the bridal bower."

"New pet?" Kael asked. "Surely you don't mean Marris? Did Sylvanas induct him into the rangers despite the objections?"

"Of course she did," Eldin said, laughing. "When has she ever pandered to tradition? Or public opinion, for that matter?" His laugh garbled into a racking cough that went on and on.

Seyla hurried to pour Eldin a drink. As she did she gave Kael a wordlessly eloquent warning — prudent, as it turned out, for it prepared him for the sight of her holding the cup to Eldin's lips as if he were too weak to hold it himself.

"Very true," Kael said as casually as he was able. "All the Windrunners are like that. Eccentric and ill-mannered."

"And all of them superbly competent," Eldin said. "Good thing they're on our side." His eyelids began to droop, and with a half-smile he said, "Curse you, woman, you know how sleepy I get the instant I drink your foul concoctions."

"Blame the herb water all you want," Seyla said crisply as she unfolded a second coverlet. "We all know you're lazier than a pile of cats." She spread the coverlet over him. "If not for me you'd nap around the clock." She glanced sideways at Kael, with a protective look that Kael interpreted to mean that it was time to him to go.

"As much as I'd like to stay and listen to you snore," Kael said, "I must get back to Dalaran. There's a senior mage who's been translating an ancient tome that's so badly deteriorated that it's not much more than scraps. He comes to me every afternoon with another handful to reassemble, and as you've recommended that I adhere to my usual routines I don't want him to find my door locked."

"They make you repair books as well as weapons?" Seyla asked as she resumed her seat next to Eldin.

"Not that much difference," Eldin murmured as he began to nod off. "Books have knowledge. Knowledge is a weapon." He opened his eyes wide and shook his head. "Wait! Before you go I have a request, little brother."

"Anything."

Eldin opened his mouth and then paused, as if he'd lost his thread of thought, then said slowly, "It would please me if you made an effort to spend time with other elves."

"I _do_ spend time with elves," Kael pointed out.

"I don't mean here," Eldin said. "I mean elves in the human kingdoms. Lordaeron and Alterac. Or Dalaran, at least."

Kael bit back the comment that the majority of the elves in Dalaran, six hundred or more years younger, offered him nothing but timid, pointless questions and obsequious fawning.

"There is safety in numbers," Seyla said.

"Even more than that," Eldin said, obviously reading reluctance in Kael's face, "as a Sunstrider and an accomplished mage it is your responsibility to teach and inspire them. Help keep our heritage alive." He leaned his head to look up at Seyla; she stroked his cheek. "You have experienced the joys of solitude, Kael. It's time to try something different."

Kael felt a tenderness faintly tinged with envy as he watched the two of them. "Perhaps."

"I'll expect progress reports," Eldin said with a weak scowl. "With names and a summary of activities."

"I'll provide them," Kael said.

.

Once Eldin's head lolled in sleep Kael silently followed Seyla down the tower stairs until they were well out of earshot. "Why I wasn't told immediately of how dire his condition had become?" He knew it sounded like an accusation. He didn't care.

"Eldin said not to. He said —" Seyla wiped at her eyes and half-laughed. "He said he didn't want you to drop everything you were doing in Dalaran to hover over him like a fussy old uncle."

"Why hasn't anyone healed him?"

"Do you truly think we haven't tried?" Seyla shot back, then caught herself and lowered her voice. "His illness resists every antidote and cure."

"Then it's a malign spell. Are our Cursebreakers so inadequate?"

She shook her head. "No. Purifications haven't helped, and he receives wards day and night."

"I see." Kael looked down the stairwell, spiraling into darkness. Why was his family under attack, and from who? It couldn't be the Kirin Tor, as Eldin's illness had begun before Kael had even met Aegwynn — and even if it hadn't, it was preposterous to think that the Kirin Tor would go so far as to interfere with the succession. Although… rather than manipulating Kael into influencing whoever was king, wouldn't it be far more effective to make Kael king, and thus control the royal decisions more precisely? No, he couldn't believe it. Every one of the senior members of the Kirin Tor he'd ever had dealings with had struck him as honorable, some exceptionally so. Yes, there were some odd birds — Kel'Thuzad was rather intense about certain subjects, and there was an elusive mage named Krasus who was spoken of but whom Kael had never, in all his time in Dalaran, seen — but was Kel'Thuzad any more intense than Dar'Khan or Telonicus? And being reluctant to appear in public was no crime: Anasterian himself rarely did so.

Seyla said softly, "It was so gradual we didn't realize it was serious until —" She pressed her lips together, fighting tears. "Until he was so weak he couldn't stand. He finally admitted that for weeks he hadn't been able to keep his meals down. That's when your father and the royal physicians revealed to those of us—" Her voice caught again. "To those of us close to him that they had always feared this sickness, which has slumbered in his blood since he was born."

This revelation was shocking, and Kael literally gripped the railing to keep his balance. "Why was this kept from us?"

"I don't know. Maybe they thought that Eldin wouldn't have had a normal childhood if he — and we — knew about the threat that hung over him?" Seyla sighed. "Since he didn't get sick when he was young, they thought he'd escaped it and didn't say anything because they thought the danger had passed."

Kael thought of the row of infant graves and nodded. "I'll send word to the Kirin Tor immediately."

"Why?"

"They'll need to know I'll be here indefinitely."

"No, don't do that! Don't do that to Eldin!" Seyla pleaded. "For his sake, you must return to Dalaran. If you stay here it'll look as if we've given up hope."

"Is that all my brother has?" Kael asked, more harshly than he intended. "Hope?"

Seyla flinched.

"I understand your request," Kael said reluctantly, "but I feel as though I am abandoning him."

"But you aren't! Please, let me take care of him in your stead." She smiled faintly. "I do love him, you know. I have always loved him. In my own imperfect, non-brotherly way."

"I know," Kael said, taking this as a delicate — but entirely justified — reprimand. "Contact me instantly if there is any change?"

"Of course." Seyla put her hand on his arm. "Thank you, Kael'thas."

After Seyla left him Kael stood looking southeast over the forests of Quel'Thalas. Usually the rippling expanse of treetops made him feel proud and secure, but today the vastness seemed ominous, as if any moment a horde of monstrous beings would arc into sight and savage the land… Such a ridiculous, fanciful notion, and yet this world, _his_ world, had shifted, lost some of its warmth and glow.

Eldin was right: if he did stay, he _would_ be tempted to hover. He had to leave, even though he was now triply reluctant to return to Dalaran. Of late he had found the human city colder and less welcoming with every passing day. Was it because he had become so accustomed to Telestra's presence for warmth? It seemed so: without her he felt like an anchorless ship, helpless against the currents slowly pulling him from safe harbor into an immense, indifferent sea.

 _A definition of loneliness if ever I heard one,_ he thought, and smiled ruefully. Doing what Eldin had asked — sponsoring gatherings to promote solidarity and general well-being among the elven population of Dalaran — might even yield one or two persons whose company was enjoyable. And yet how was he to begin? He had none of Eldin's facility for charming an entire room without once sounding false. Not that he considered this a deficiency: he and Eldin had simply developed skills that aligned with the strengths of their respective temperaments. Even though at their core they were both explorers excited by the possibilities of the new, Kael preferred the inanimate, while Eldin loved meeting and studying people. Kael suspected that Eldin's approach would be to put an _Everyone Welcome At All Hours_ sign on the workshop door and happily welcome the throng that resulted, a tactic that Kael most certainly would not be using.

.

_K—:_

_Choosing a circle of friends is excellent practice for choosing a council,_ Eldin wrote a few days later. _Anasterian told me once that if you take care in selecting those you allow closest to you, and display your confidence in their judgement by giving them leave to act in your name, you will not only deepen their loyalty, but will encourage them to bring their most trusted associates into your circle of influence. I've seen this borne out many times: take Thalorien, for example. Without him I might have overlooked both Lana'thel and Lor'themar, who have not only become dear friends, but who I know I can trust to help me rule some day._

_This same principle will apply to your Quel'Dorei Social Society: your first disciple will tell two or three, who will in turn tell others, and soon there will be dozens in your entourage. All you need do is provide a location for the first few meetings: once the group becomes diverse enough there is likely to be someone who excels at organization and logistics._

_As always, E.  
_

Kael understood what Eldin was saying, but the difficult part was choosing that first "councilor" (the word _disciple_ in Eldin's letter made him cringe), a process that, in typical Eldin fashion, his brother had presented far too optimistically. It was clear to Kael, however, that the result of incorrectly evaluating a stranger for hidden malicious impulses could be a drowning flood rather than a pleasantly branching rivulet. It was this sobering knowledge that primarily held him back — although it was also true that he was acclimating himself to the idea of sustained companionship. He answered Eldin's frequent inquiries with vague assurances that he was making progress, but in truth he sequestered himself in his workshop to edit a translation of a lexicon of non-elven magical terms. The work went slowly, as too easily he found himself losing concentration and becoming mesmerized by the dust motes swirling in the wedge of sunlight that came through the tall narrow window.

And then, one day, he became angry at himself for making what should have been a straightforward process into something complex. His own case aside, the Kirin Tor had an extensive evaluation process for selecting to whom they would extend the offer of membership. All he need do was pick someone who was already an initiate — such a person theoretically cherished magic and was determined to dedicate their life to it — gauge whether they had any interest in the sort of gathering Eldin had suggested, and allow the invasion of his solitude to ensue. Unfortunately, most of Dalaran's students, though earnest, tended to plateau at mediocrity, never rising higher than competent no matter how diligently they studied. Take the assortment of young elven mages who spent most of each day reading in a corner next to Kael's bookcases… although as he considered them he realized that the fact that they rarely took notes and only looked up when the workshop door opened probably meant that they were "protectors" planted by his father and brother. Even if they weren't, clearly none of them would do for his first councilor: what Kael wanted, what he _needed,_ was a kindred spirit, one of those rare mages who seemed to vibrate in unison with the wellspring of magic itself, who absorbed knowledge as greedily and easily as one drains a goblet to slake thirst.

There was a black-haired Kirin Tor initiate who came by the workshop several times a week to consult Kael's collection of works on abjuration and enchanting. Blessedly untalkative, this initiate had an air of disciplined intensity that had always mildly intrigued Kael, and so the next time he came by Kael studied him as he sat at the far end of the table taking notes. At first glance he seemed a classic example of the talented son whose family could barely afford his tuition — he wore the standard student's robe, his raven-black hair was pulled back with austere simplicity into a simple clasp, and no jewelry or cosmetics mitigated his age, which Kael took to be eight or nine hundred. However, when Kael observed more closely he noticed that the robe, although dyed in drab variants of the Kirin Tor colors, was woven of the very finest spellcloth rather than linen, and that the simple hair-clasp, though worn with age, was made of precious metals. These discreet luxuries suggested a background of wealth so confident that it had no need to be ostentatious, which implied one of the ancient houses.

As the initiate closed the book and went to return it to the shelf Kael said to him, "You've walked to that bookcase so often you're starting to wear out the carpet."

The initiate, who had been sliding the book into its proper place on the shelf, stopped as suddenly as if he'd been turned to stone.

Kael could tell from his posture — back absolutely straight, hand still holding the book's spine — that he was either shocked, afraid, or offended — or possibly all three. "I wasn't serious," Kael said in what he hoped was an appeasing tone of voice. "You are welcome to use my library at any time. In fact, you can take the book with you, if you wish." _Anar'alah,_ what was the elf's name? He had most certainly introduced himself when he'd first come to the workshop, and yet Kael had no memory of it… well, there was nothing to be done but to own up to the failing. "Forgive me, but I can't recall your name."

"Rommath." With stiffly elegant movements and posture Rommath took the book from the shelf and carried it carefully back to the table. then stood staring down at his notes. After a moment he began folding the parchment into precise thirds. "I am honored by your trust, your highness." He kept his eyes fixed on the parchment.

Under most circumstances Kael would have found such behavior disrespectful, but he had a feeling that Rommath-of-No-House had been made speechless by his prince's sudden friendliness. "That looks like Ri'finna's _Treatise on Energy Transfer,"_ Kael said, as if nothing was amiss. "Are you specializing in enchantment, Rommath?"

"I — ah — " Rommath continued to press the folded edges of the parchment with his thumb as if performing a vitally important task. "I've been doing research for a friend, your highness," he said at last. He opened the book and tucked the parchment inside, and only then did he look up. His gaze was direct, although the rest of his face was expressionless.

"Is your friend that shy?" Kael asked, genuinely curious. "Or am I that intimidating?"

"No?" Rommath said hesitantly; then again, with more conviction, "No. But you are a prince."

"And a direct descendent of Dath'Remar Sunstrider," Kael said with a smile. "However, we are not in Silvermoon. Here in Dalaran I prefer to be thought of as your equal. A mere mage, like any other member of the Kirin Tor."

Rommath's expression was guarded, but he nodded as he picked up the book and held it to his chest.

"I'll make a deal with you, Rommath," Kael said. "Call me Kael'thas, and I'll make a gift of the book. I'll even inscribe it… although my signature might lower the resale value." He reached for a quill, then held out his hand.

"We will not sell it," Rommath said faintly, handing over the book.

 _"From Kael'thas Sunstrider,"_ Kael said as he wrote. "To — ?"

"Astalor Sunsworn."

"Only the one name?"

"If it pleases your — " Rommath caught himself, then said, "Yes, Kael'thas. Astalor's name only."

Kael closed the book and handed it to Rommath. "Tell me, do you think there would be interest in a weekly group to discuss topics in arcane studies? Or news relevant to the quel'dorei?"

"I am sure of it," Rommath said without hesitation.

The first meeting was held the next afternoon in Kael's small workshop. Rommath brought Astalor — a quiet blond whose intensity surpassed even Rommath's — and tall twins who Astalor introduced as Val and Kel. The five of them talked briefly of the orc invasion, but the conversation quickly shifted to magical topics. It wasn't until Rommath lit the room's lamps that Kael realized how many hours had flown by.

And so it began. Not that Kael had doubted Eldin's claim that the other elves would be eager to rally around a Sunstrider, but he was surprised at how grateful they seemed to be — and how many there were. More than a dozen elves came to the second meeting, which meant that twice as many leaned against the walls as sat, but there were no complaints. Kael was cajoled into finishing the evening by talking about Dath'Remar, and rather than grumbles about dusty history all he saw were rapt, attentive faces. It was exhilarating.

The next day Rommath informed Kael that the Legerdemain's innkeeper had agreed to allow them free use of her meeting hall one night a week.

"Free? I'm surprised she agreed to that."

"Astalor can be very tenacious when he sets his mind on something." Rommath had gradually lost most of his initial reticence, although he always retained a mannered formality that seemed more appropriate to an elder than to someone not yet a thousand.

The agenda for each week was generally impromptu, primarily magical problems (the majority of the attendees were Kirin Tor initiates), although from time to time they discussed the war in the southern kingdoms. Kael was flattered that more and more came each week; granted, there were a few who he suspected attended simply because he was a prince, but that was the way of the world. It wasn't long before his brightest, eagerest pupils — Theraldis, Rommath, Tenris, Valanar, Astalor, Sathera, Pathaleon, Sandoval — convinced him to hold an invitation-only evenings in his private chambers. "Elite discussion for the elite," is how Sandoval put it. In this more intimate setting Kael felt relaxed enough to be coaxed into discssing his most deeply-held hopes and dreams for how the kingdom would prosper under King Eldin. At the end of the meeting Astalor and Sathera produced a _geshan-lu,_ the simple flute that all quel'dorei learned to play as children, and harried Rommath until he agreed to play. Kael'thas was astounded at the depth of emotion hidden in the performance, and found himself moved nearly to tears by Rommath's rendition of _Dirge for Those Taken._

.

Two days later, Kael'thas received a summons asking him to report to the Violet Citadel.

After being led to an upper balcony and through a hidden door into a small windowless room, he was told to wait. As the door closed he saw in the darkness the glowing outline of a transportation rune. Curious, he stepped in.

He was ported to a circular platform — the word "room" could hardly apply to something with no walls or ceiling — high in the air. Strong winds streamed across the platform, although they had no effect on the wall of mist that obscured the identity of several figures that stood across from him. One of them, a voice he did not recognize, greeted him. "Welcome, Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider."

"The infamous Council of Six, I assume," Kael said, shouting against the wind. "Why have you brought me here?"

"You will earn the privilege of asking questions of us," a deeper, almost-familiar voice said, "once you prove your willingness to answer the questions we put to you."

"What do you want to know?"

"We are aware of the secret meeting you held in your chambers." A female voice — although like the others, it was unfamiliar.

She had phrased it as a statement, but Kael felt a reply was needed. "It was an extension of the discussion group that meets in the public room of the inn. We discuss magic and politics." That he was being questioned in such an insulting manner — as if he was a criminal! — puzzled and irritated him. "It also gives us an opportunity to keep our Thalassian from acquiring a Common accent."

"Your people feel unwelcome here?"

"The feeling of connection to Quel'Thalas can be difficult to maintain," Kael said, pleased that he was able to word it so diplomatically.

"You did not answer the question," a harsher voice pointed out.

"Why am I being asked this?" Kael asked. "Have I done anything that would make you question my loyalty?"

Yet another voice said, "We are simply unclear about your priorities, Prince Kael'thas."

"Should war come to Dalaran," Kael said, "I will defend this city with my life, as will all the elves of this city."

"And if war should come to — "

"No," the somewhat familiar voice interrupted. "This is not the time for that."

Kael couldn't tell for sure, but it seemed that the shapes had huddled together, as if conferring. After a few moments another question came. "What do you know of the abilities of the sorcerer named Medivh?"

"Medivh?" Kael replied. "I've heard the name. Is this the same Medivh to whom Khadgar was apprenticed?"

"Yes."

Kael was puzzled. "Then why don't you ask Khadgar of Medivh's abilities?"

Surprisingly, three interrogators answered simultaneously, one saying, "We will," another saying, "We did," and a third saying, "We can't."

_Curious._

"What was your relationship," a different voice asked, "with the mage known as Magna Aegwynn?"

"I had none," Kael said, shielding his eyes against a shaft of sunlight that stabbed through the mists and made him curiously light-headed. "I only met Aegwynn once, on the day that Magna Telestra left Dalaran. I have had no contact with her since."

"You claim to have no knowledge of her magical abilities?"

"No." He hesitated, then added, "It was my impression that she was very powerful." He wasn't sure, but it almost sounded as though this made one of his questioners chuckle.

"Were you aware that Medivh was her son?"

Use of the past tense struck him. "Was? Is Magna Aegwynn dead?"

"Answer the question."

"Telestra told me that Aegwynn had a child. She never told me the child's name."

"He tells the truth," a fourth voice replied.

"Of course I tell the truth," Kael said, his irritation swelling into anger with the entire proceeding. "I am a prince of House Sunstrider!"

"Yes, you are," the familiar voice replied. "Please indulge us a moment further."

More huddling, more whispering. At last the deep voice said, "Forgive our methods, Prince Kael'thas. Recent events — events whose causes and purposes are not understood fully even by this Council — have greatly tasked us."

"I am pleased to have been of service," Kael said with a bow, hoping he didn't sound too snide.

"Give us your assurance that you will keep the details of this meeting a secret."

"Of course. Anything else?"

"We may call upon you to prove the truth of your words," a final voice said sternly. "Be ready."

.

The next week began uneventfully. Kael informed Rommath that he had changed his mind about hosting private meetings in his chambers.

Rommath looked perplexed. "Have we offended your in some way?" he asked.

"Not at all," Kael reassured him. "It was a marvelous evening; I can't think of the last time I felt so at ease—or so moved by a musical performance. My only concern is that, as my chambers accommodate so few, such gatherings by necessity exclude so many." Kael smiled. "I'd rather my favorites among our society not be so obvious."

Rommath looked briefly surprised, then quickly looked down. "Of course."

There was a knock at the door. Antonidas, the Archmage of the Kirin Tor. Tall, almost elderly by human standards but still quite vigorous, Antonidas' most arresting features were his long white beard and his eyes, piercingly observant and almost as intensely blue as an elf's. Kael had not had much contact with him outside of formal dinners and Kirin Tor assembly meetings, but even in those limited interactions he had been impressed by both Antonidas' obvious intelligence and erudition, and by his air of humility and child-like curiosity. "Am I interrupting anything?" he asked.

"Of course not," Rommath said, "I was just leaving." He bowed quickly and left.

"How may I help you, Archmage?"

"I have heard," the old man said, leaning on the corner of the worktable and peering at the materials and equipment of Kael's current project, "that you have been doing some very interesting research in the field of enchanting. I would be most gratified if you explained it to me."

"I don't understand," Kael said, bringing a tall chair over so that Antonidas wouldn't have to stand. "I've submitted copies of my papers and my notes to the Office of the Imprimatur. Have I inadvertently broken a law?"

"No, no, not at all!" Antonidas laughed. "It's just that I sit at my desk and read all day, and thought it might be enjoyable to walk down and hear about someone's work first-hand for a change."

"Of course," Kael said. He didn't for a moment believe that Antonidas had chosen him at random, but as part of his new strategy of being cautiously watchful he knew he should act as if he was taking this request at face value and not ascribing any ulterior motive. "My current work," he said, "is aimed at capturing the arcane energy of an enchantment in that moment when it is between weapons."

"What an intriguing idea!" Antonidas said, settling himself on the chair. "What ever made you attempt such a thing?"

"It occurred to me that a healing spell and a healing potion," Kael said, despite himself warming to the topic, "while very different from most perspectives, both augment endurance and restore vitality. If in this way the potion can be thought of as a portable, liquid substitute for the spell, understanding the underlying principle that connects the potion and the spell should allow me, theoretically, to create an object that can store the essence of magic in and of itself. A consumable form of the raw energy that is the wellspring of our power."

"Sounds as though you learned a great deal from Telestra," Antonidas said. "Even though we waived your apprenticeship to make it clear that you had no need to train with her." His tone was mild rather than accusatory.

"I wasn't aware that it was forbidden," Kael said calmly. "As her reputation as an arcane theoretician was — is — without peer in Quel'Thalas, it seemed reasonable to learn what I could from her, even if informally." He added, "When I first arrived in Dalaran I felt very much a neophyte."

"We were better judges of that than you were," Antonidas said cheerfully. "Still, I do appreciate your honesty."

Kael folded his arms. "Might I respectfully ask for yours, then? Why do so many in the Kirin Tor claim never to have heard of Telestra? Or Aegwynn?"

"How odd," Antonidas said. "Are people truly deceiving you? Well, I see no reason to hide the truth. Yes, I knew them both. Telestra's contributions were most thought-provoking. I am curious, however, why you ask about Aegwynn in the same breath as your old mentor."

 _Ah-ha,_ Kael thought. _Eldin was right._ He had to admire how skillfully Antonidas had led the conversation. "Telestra and I were close," he said. "During my time as her… informal apprentice… she became almost a second mother to me. I've become concerned, as I've had no contact with her since she left and have no idea where she's gone. When my inquiries— " _made it appear as though every trace of her had been obliterated_ "—didn't lead anywhere fruitful, I remembered that Telestra had referred to Aegwynn as her friend. I thought if I could locate Aegwynn she might know where to find Telestra."

Antonidas was nodding, patting and smoothing the tabletop as if comforting it.

"Do _you_ know where either of them are?" Kael asked.

"No," Antonidas said, "and that is more worrisome to me than you can know." He gave the table a final pat. "Well, I commend you, Kael'thas. Very original work. I will be following your progress with great interest."

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The Council's second summons came the next day. Once again Kael'thas stepped into the rune and emerged on the platform. This time the sky above was overcast; the winds were gentler, and the fog was much thicker.

"How may I serve you today?" Kael said, giving the courtliest of bows.

"You have proven yourself competent, discreet, and of sound moral judgment," a voice said without preamble, "and thus we invite you to join the High Council of the Kirin Tor, the governing body of the city of Dalaran and all the territories under her protection."

Kael, recalling Telestra's claim that he would be one of the Six 'in no time,' said, "I've been in Dalaran for centuries. How gratifiying that I'm at last deemed worthy."

"We do not measure time by human standards," a second voice said.

"Do you accept?" the third voice asked.

Kael was certain that there was something untoward about the timing of this invitation, but he could not quite identify why. His appointment would have made more sense when he first arrived in Dalaran, as a sign of respect for House Sunstrider. At the very least it should have come several years ago, when the human nations first came under attack and were, one assumed, in more immediate need of Quel'Thalas' help to win their war against the orcs. That it was coming only now made him feel as though he had only been deemed "worthy" because he had established that he no longer had contact with Telestra.

 _Tainted by association,_ Eldin had once said. Was it true? Had Telestra's presence prevented Kael from being offered a Council seat? If so, had she left of her own free will, or had her departure been the price of his admittance? The idea that the Kirin Tor might have forced an ultimatum on Telestra made him angry, and it was almost on his lips to refuse — but then he calmed. If Telestra had indeed made such a sacrifice for him, the best way to honor it would be to use whatever power being a member of the Six afforded him to find her and bring her back.

"Yes," he said, "I accept. I will become one of the Six."

The wind changed direction, and revealed the other five.

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Oddly, not much changed. Kael was told that his membership in the Six was not to be discussed or acknowledged in any way outside the Chamber of Air, but the fact that Antonidas and Modera stopped by his workroom more often was apparently noticed by the rank-and-file of the Kirin Tor, who seemed to be treating him with much more deference than they had previously. As for his fellow Council members, Kel'Thuzad, of course, continued to come by almost daily with his odd scraps of parchment, and the elusive Krasus was still somewhat elusive, as Kael never saw him outside of the Council meetings in the Chamber of Air. Kael had been surprised to discover that Krasus was an elf; he was even more surprised that Krasus consistently deflected all questions about his House and lineage as irrelevant to Council business. As to the actual Council meetings, they were similar to many Kael'thas had attended as a Convocation member in Silvermoon: sometimes they decided who would attend various diplomatic summits on Dalaran's behalf, or how to properly store dangerous magical artifacts too valuable to destroy, but more often they discussed trivial matters such as requests for access to restricted materials or the promotion of a worthy mage to the position of archmage.

And so his life might have continuted to unfold, predictable, uneventful, almost dull, if not for the orcs.

Kael's current watchdog — a sturdily-built elf with short reddish hair — heard the commotion before Kael did, putting down her book and sitting upright. A moment later the door to the workshop burst open, and one of the triplets — Kael thought it was Tal, but he wasn't sure — said excitedly, just as the defense alarm began to sound, "The orcs have defeated the Third Fleet and crossed Baradin Bay!"

Kael extinguished his fireplace, placed a shield around his workroom, and then hurried downstairs and out into the street, where he found the organized pandemonium of vendors closing up their shops and non-magical residents hurrying with their children to the underground shelters.

At the focus point in Runeweaver Square Kael joined Antonidas and the other defensive mages in channeling a massive city shield. "To the walls, now!" someone boomed from one of the Citadel's towers: it took Kael a moment to realize that the voice was Krasus'. He glimpsed Rommath and Astalor among the evokers and illusionists racing to take their positions atop  the city's perimeter wall, but the next moment the first attacks began to hit the shield.

Kael prided himself on his magical prowess, but he was entirely unprepared for the physical toll of the attack. Every time the shield was hit it created a concussive blast that rattled the bones in his arms and slammed into his chest so hard it knocked away his breath. As the battle went on his skull began to feel as though it was being pierced with metal spikes, but as he had seen several junior mages collapse—and suspected that it was primarily his channeling that was keeping the shield intact—he held on, throwing every last spark of his energy into the shield even when his vision began to blur.

He heard Antonidas say, "Rest for a moment, Prince Kael'thas. I will maintain the shield."

Gratefully, Kael staggered back to a stone bench, accepting a drought of mana-enhanced water. Every muscle in his body twitched and burned with exhaustion.

"They've taken the Runestone at Caer Darrow!"

"They've got dragons!"

"Quel'Thalas is ablaze!"

Kael looked around for whoever had shouted this scrap of news, but he saw no one.

He gritted his teeth and stood. He had to trust that the Farstriders would make the Amani and the orcs pay for whatever they were doing in Quel'Thalas, and so he resumed his station next to Antonidas.

"The shield will hold without you," Antonidas said quietly. "Go now, but return swiftly.  After the battle I will have need of you."

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Kael'thas had returned to Dalaran to find it smouldering. Places where buildings had once stood were marked by piles of stone and charred wood. Everywhere citizens had been tending the wounded, burying the dead, or searching the rubble for the missing

Although he had been shaken and exhausted by the battles he had been taught that a true leader never shirked a task he would command of his followers, and so Kael had joined the brigade that was passing water up from the lake to quench lingering embers. He had lost track of how many buckets he had taken and passed  when Archmage Antonidas had touched his shoulder and said, "Welcome back to Dalaran, Prince Kael'thas. The fires seem to be quite subdued, thanks to your efforts, and so I wonder if we might withdraw to your workshop to discuss a special project?"

In the three days since, Kael had worked around the clock, not sleeping and barely eating. He kept Rommath, Astalor, and anyone else who poked their head in busy retrieving broken weapons from the vaults; had a second table brought in to spread out his reference books and scrolls; and told his watchdog, "I know what you are and why you're here, but as I can't afford to sleep until this artifact is done make certain you and any of your replacements are well-rested. And do not hesitate to shake me if I drowse."

Late in the afternoon of the third day, as he picked shards of shattered crystal from his hands, he was startled to see Krasus in his doorway.

Krasus, whose smudged face and ragged, singed robes suggested that he too had been working non-stop since the attack, glared at Kael'thas. "Leave us," he said to the watchdog.

Kael nodded, and the watchdog slipped out the door.

"Krasus, I'm very busy at the —"

"So much empty talk about where your true loyalties are," Krasus began. "Not only did you flee — in the midst of battle! — the city you claimed you would defend with your life, but now you play at experiments while others shoulder the burden of repair!"

Kael was astounded.

"A dozen of your followers deserted the city as well!" Krasus continued, even more furious.

"I asked no one to accompany me," Kael said. He could feel magical energies building in Krasus, and he quickly prepared to defend himself should Krasus attack. "And I am working on — "

"Krasus!" Antonidas was in the doorway, radiating authority. "Stand down! The defenses Prince Kael'thas helped us create held for hours after he left, and at any rate it was I who gave him leave to fight those attacking Quel'Thalas. The few that followed him did not change the outcome of our battle here."

"Tell that to the wounded and the loved ones of the fallen," Krasus said as he turned and left.

Antonidas sighed. "We are all at the breaking point, it seems." He took in the fragments of crystal on the work table. "Difficulties?" he asked, sending a healing spell spiraling over Kael's lacerated hands.

"No success yet, but I'm getting close," Kael said. "Creating a focusing lens for dynamic channeling is a bit more complex than capturing an enchantment for storage. "

"The materials from the Order weren't useful?"

"They were," Kael said, "but the Tirisfalen used a living being to combine multiple streams of magic. Unfortunately, conjured artifacts have neither intelligence nor will."

"I see." Antonidas picked up a polished crystal sphere and peered at the faint swirl of trapped magic glinting at its center, then put the glass sphere back onto its stand. "I have faith in you, Kael'thas," he said.

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_ First post 20 Nov 2014; rev 11 May 2015 _


	5. The Assembly Chamber (Selin Fireheart), Part V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kael'thas' first meetings with Jaina Proudmoore and Arthas Menethil.

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~ : |5| : ~

_Yes! I am a god! —_

_._

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The cruelest act is not to crush the egg in the nest: the cruelest is to rip the fledgling from the sky and tear its wings away once it has tasted the joy of flight.

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_E,_

_My apologies for not writing sooner. Dalaran has been a city besieged: we had no sooner rebuilt the city after the initial orc attack (using an artifact that allowed a hundred mages to work as one) when the alarm was again raised. This time, however, it was no earthly army that battered our walls, but a squad of undead necromancers, who had descended from the night sky on black dragons to take that very artifact from the most secret recess of the Arcane Vault. Four of us defeated nearly half their number before a vicious attack on the Archmage cost Sathera her life. In the chaos the leader of the attackers escaped with his prize._

_In less sorrowful news, the weekly meetings have resumed, although we have almost outgrown the inn's assembly hall; should our numbers continue to increase, we might need to commandeer the shore of Lake Lordamere._

_Finally — I was happy to hear that the soup and herb-water have been banished. I look forward to making the rounds with you on Ancestor's Day. (Rommath thinks that The Hat of D this year will be red, Astalor says green, but I remain convinced that violet will, as always, win the bet.)_

_Kt_

_P.S. I did indeed submit a formal complaint against the induction of Marris as a Ranger-Lord. He let our forests burn, a crime for which I cannot forgive him._

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"Excuse me."

There was a young human at the door; she looked agitated.

"Can I help you?" Kael asked, glancing up from yet another translation for Kel'Thuzad.

"Master Antonidas sent me to find you," she said as she hurried into the room and held out a scroll. "This just arrived for you. We were told it was urgent."

The royal seal. He unrolled and read it, then recoiled in shock.

"What is it?" she asked.

"My brother…" Kael said, and opened a portal to Quel'Thalas.

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Thalorien and Lana'thel met him. "Thank the sun," Lana'thel said.

As they hurried to the pavilion Thalorien filled him in. Eldin had seemed almost completely recovered; he'd walked all the way to Dath'Remar's monument just a few days before, and had hosted a dinner party with his closest friends in celebration of his victory over the illness. And then this morning Seyla awoke to find him convulsed with fever, a fever that was physically consuming him from the inside.

The crowd parted as Kael ran up the steps to the dais, and as he saw his brother he could not control his horror.

Emaciated, unable to speak, gasping for each breath as if drowning in the air, his eyes blind and sunken, Eldin seemed another being entirely. Kael took his place next to the bedside, standing with his father and siblings until Eldin's struggles finally ceased. Anasterian was as motionless as a statue as Kael began the Farewell; when it was done he ported away to grieve behind locked doors, and Seyla took the tiny jeweled dagger from her gown and sheared her hair in mourning.

As Thalorien, Lana'thel, and the rest of Eldin's honor guard stepped forward to prepare the body for burial, Kael made his way back toward the Sunspire. He wondered why so many faces who hadn't spoken to him in years were making a point of offering their condolences — and then it hit him. Tainted or not, with Nallorath and Eldin gone and Anasterian's other children barely out of childhood, he was now the eldest Sunstrider prince.

The thought disgusted him, and he could not wait to leave Quel'Thalas.

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He buried himself in work when he returned to Dalaran, first methodically reviewing the entire catalog of weapons and ensuring that for each there was a sketch, notes on the location found and the history of the wielder (if known), a detailed analysis of the magical traces, whether or not they had been removed, what the yield was, and to what the extracted magic had been applied. When he had updated the catalogs he began repairing weapons — minor repairs of course, he was no blacksmith. He found such work soothing, demanding as it did his full attention with no stray thoughts. When he had no weapons to repair he worked on translating the many secondary magical encyclopedias and compendia — work almost as mind-numbing as weapon repair — and he always looked forward to seeing Kel'Thuzad approach with another tattered page to be deciphered.

Rommath, seeming to understand that Kael wished to be solitary, asked carefully if the weekly gatherings should be suspended for a time. Kael's first impulse was to say yes, but then he shook his head. "It was at Eldin's request that I began our gatherings," he said. "It honors him for me to continue." Then too, Anasterian's decision to withdraw from the Alliance of Lordaeron — a decision that Kael fully supported, as he saw no reason why Quel'Thalas should pay to feed, clothe, and house the green monsters who had allied with the Amani to burn her forests — had raised tensions between human and elf. Kael's people needed to support each other, now more than ever.

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"I was so sorry to hear of your loss." It was the young blonde mage who Antonidas had used as a messenger.

"Thank you."

"I had an older brother too," she said, coming into the workroom and perching on the anvil he used for the few repairs that did not require a forge.

"Had?"

"He died in the war," she said with astonishing calm. "Dragon riders killed him. I was only nine, but I packed my spellbook and a dagger in a bag and told my father I wanted to go avenge him."

"What did he say to that?"

"You know, I can't actually remember," she laughed. "He probably told me to go finish my studies and become a mage powerful enough to blast them out of the sky."

"And have you?"

"Not yet," she said, looking embarrassed. "What about you? Are you plotting vengeance?"

"Not unless there's a way to kill Death itself." She looked puzzled, and he realized that he was acting as if everyone in Dalaran knew every detail of his life. "My brother was born with a fatal disease, one with no cure."

"Oh… how sad." She put her hand over her mouth, and it looked as though her eyes were brimming with tears.

It was strange to him that she would cry over over the death of a stranger she had never met. He looked down at the shield he was enchanting. Gryphons, lions, fluttering flags, crossed swords… so much more ornate than Thalassian designs.

_Eldin…_

He tightened his grip on the broken wand he had been using to power the enchantment, tightened until the splintered wood cut into his palms.

_… a pall, red and white and black, settling over the gold and green of Quel'Thalas' forests…_

He thought he had experienced true sorrow when Nallorath died, and again when he lost his mother. Both times he had been filled with a howling, raging fury at the fate that had taken them, but what he had been feeling since Eldin's death was different, a creeping nothingness that had emptied his mind, numbed his senses, and turned everything he enjoyed to ash…

A burst of laughter from the street below came through the workroom window.

By the time he looked up the young mage had used a spell to whisk the shutters closed. Her kind, steady gaze seemed to say that she understood his grief completely. "Would you rather be alone?" she asked.

"No," he said, "I'd like it if you sat a while."

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"May I come in?" Antonidas stood in the workroom doorway.

"Of course," Kael'thas said. "Please, sit down. Would you like some refreshment?"

"Mint tea, if you have it," he said, seating himself on the small brocade divan. "This is new," he said, patting the cushions.

Kael, pouring heated water over the leaves, said, "Yes, I… ah, I thought it would be more enjoyable than the workroom's wooden benches and stools."

"Very thoughtful." Antonidas took the cup of tea Kael held out. "Smells delicious, thank you." He blew on the tea, took a tentative sip, then said, "I understand you've been spending time with my apprentice."

"Your apprentice?"

"Daelin Proudmoore's daughter," Antonidas said. "Jaina, Princess of Kul Tiras."

"Yes, she comes by once every week or two." Kael was reluctant to discuss the fact that Jaina chose to visit him, as if paying it too much attention would make it float away like dried flower petals in the wind. "I think she's decided that I'm lonely."

"Are you?"

"No," Kael said. "But it is pleasant to make new acquaintances now and again."

"What do you two do?"

"Sometimes we talk. More often she sits and reads while I work."

"Um-hm." Antonidas took another sip of tea. "Don't let her sweet face and kind heart fool you," he said. "She's reticent to show it, but she's enormously gifted. Quite rare to find that much power in one so young: I haven't seen the like since Khadgar — well, and Aegwynn, of course."

"She has that much power?" Kael asked.

"Not quite yet." Antonidas said, "but she will." He set the cup aside, looking as as though he had more to say.

"Is there anything else?" Kael prompted. He was experiencing a curious elation.

"Jaina's barely seventeen," Antonidas said, with a hint of scowl.

It took Kael a moment to understand what Antonidas was getting at. "Oh, I —!"

"Ah." Antonidas looked relieved. "Good." He retrieved his cup from the divan and drank off the last of the tea, then handed the empty cup to Kael'thas. "Thank you for clearing up the mystery of where Jaina disappears to; now I know your workroom should be the first place to look if we can't find her."

Even though Jaina was Antonidas' apprentice Kael surmised that she might have only limited access to the library of rare tomes, and so, telling himself that what he was doing was in the service of education, he began leaving a stacks of works he thought might appeal to her on the small table by the divan. Once she noticed them she started coming by more often; first twice a week, and then almost every day. He knew, of course, that her visits were now more motivated by her pursuit of magical knowledge then by a concern for his welfare, but this made her even more intriguing to him. To be so young, and to have such an appetite for learning new things… it was exceptional. It was almost amusing to see how intent she became when she read, so absolutely engrossed; he sometimes stopped working and watched her for minutes at a time. She tended to frown slightly when she encountered a difficult passage, but even then he found her utterly charming.

He knew he had become enamored when he realized that he was unwittingly adjusting his schedule so that he was always in the workroom during the early morning hours she was accustomed to come by.

In his youth, as inclination and opportunity had taken him, he had of course courted and been courted by the sons and daughters of various noble houses. He had pleasant memories of these liasons, some of which had spun out over days or even years, but ultimately each had been little more than a fleeting diversion. None of them had made him feel the way being with Jaina did, simultaneously pained and joyous, as if some rare and enchanted tree planted in his heart was now entwining its roots and branches throughout his entire being.

He accepted that the obstacles to a relationship with her were formidable, but rather than give up hope before even starting he preferred to focus on the few things that already connected them. They were both mages. They both loved learning. They both had lost siblings and a parent. They both came from royal families. It wasn't much, but it had established a friendship; with patience, it might grow into more. He began searching for a weapon he could enchant for her, something that he felt would suit her. He recalled cataloging an elegant quel'dorei dagger several centuries previously, and once he had found where it was stored he spent every night for a week locked in his workroom, carefully repairing and restoring it. At the last minute, realizing that the Silvermoon color scheme might make him seem too eager, he transmuted the gold to truesilver, and replaced the cabochon rubies and amber inlay in the handle with sapphires and mother-of-pearl.

It sat on his desk holding down a pile of parchment for several days before she noticed it.

"That's pretty."

"Oh, that?" He hid his elation, tried to sound indifferent. "You can have it, if you like." He picked it up by the blade and held it out to her, hilt first. "An elegant design, sculpted to fit the hand perfectly. Holding it is a joy. I could enchant it for you, if you like."

She took it, smiling. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." What was it about her that made him feel as though he himself was being transmuted into something finer, truer, almost resplendent? He wished he had a way to express this to her, but none of the languages he knew were adequate.

"They said you'd be here." A tall young man with shaggy hair stood in the doorway.

Jaina turned and said — with undisguised delight — "Oh, I didn't know you were coming!"

"I thought I'd surprise you." The young man stepped close to her. "What's this?" he asked, lifting her hand to look at the dagger. "A brooch?"

"It's a gift," Jaina said, turning to smile at Kael. "Arthas, this is Kael'thas Sunstrider."

Arthas inclined his head slightly, then turned back to Jaina, his hand still cupped under hers. "Isn't this dagger too girly for you? I thought you liked staves."

"Arthas… " Kael said, feeling a twist of annoyance. "Are you Terenas Menethil's son?"

"I am." Arthas replied without taking his eyes from Jaina — and why would he, when she was looking up at him in such a fashion? "Why don't you stop bothering this old elf," Arthas said softly to her, "and come riding with me?"

"You can't expect me to drop everything and run off just because you showed up," she said, but she was only pretending to be cross: she hadn't taken her hand out of Arthas'.

"You're distracting him from important… reading and annotation," Arthas said, leaning toward her.

Increasingly annoyed with both of them, Kael'thas said, "I assure you, I'm proficient with every weapon here."

Arthas turned and gave Kael his full attention for the first time since he'd entered the room. His eyes flicked up and down, as if taking Kael's measure. "I'll take your word for it," he said, with the hint of a smirk.

Normally Kael would have shrugged off such rudeness, attributing it to the prince's youth, but to be dismissed as inconsequential in front of Jaina made him unreasonably angry. "I'll prove it," he said.

"All right." Arthas was now almost laughing. "If you insist."

"Oh, don't do this." Jaina, exasperated, seemed to be addressing them both.

Ignoring her, Arthas said, "I'll even wait while you go get your weapon."

"No need," Kael replied. "As I said, I can use any weapon in this room."

Jaina folded her arms and sat on the divan, scowling.

"Pick something then," Arthas said as he pushed the divan — with Jaina still on it — across the room to the far wall.

Kael looked over the pile of weapons in the corner and chose a well-made longsword. Gripping it with both hands, he turned to face Arthas.

Arthas, smiling faintly, had picked up a battered, much shorter sword, which he was swinging loosely in one hand.

"Why are you doing this?" Jaina said.

"Because we must," Arthas said. "Kael'thas and I understand each other."

"Well, I'm not you," Jaina said, "Explain it to me."

"Only cowards refuse a challenge," Arthas said.

"Or those who think they're so far superior to the challenger that defeating them would be demeaning," Kael'thas added.

Kael knew himself to be an excellent swordsman; he had trained since boyhood and had acquitted himself well both on the battlefield and while sparring with Thalorien. However, the moment he saw the sword in Arthas' hand he knew that neither trolls nor friends had prepared him for this duel. He had assumed that Arthas would choose a longsword — to take advantage of its reach — but that Arthas had taken such an inferior sword either meant that he was confident that he would win, or that he was very foolish.

Arthas was arrogant, but he wasn't a fool.

Kael lunged: anticipating that Arthas would parry, he quickly shifted the angle of his attack and came in for a strike that would have laid open Arthas' side… if it had connected.

Arthas, who had sidestepped, grinned. "Not bad for an old man in a dress," he said. "How are you at defense?" he asked, moving in and laying down three ringing blows that took all of Kael's skill to block. He finished by slamming the pommel of his sword down on Kael's forearm: an instant later the flat of his blade was pressed against the side of Kael's neck.

"Stop it!" Jaina ran to pull at Arthas' arm. She was furious. "You don't have to do this!"

"No," Arthas said. "I don't." He stepped back, lowering his weapon and holding his arms out to his sides as if offering himself up. Daring Kael to do something dishonorable.

Kael tossed his sword aside.

"Let's go," Arthas said to Jaina, and left.

Jaina threw Kael a puzzled glance, then followed Arthas out into the hall. Kael heard her say something in an angry whisper; her words weren't intelligible, but Arthas' reply was. "His weaknesses aren't my responsibility."

 _Someday,_ Kael silently vowed, _someday, I will crush you._

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 _~ Next up: As the attack on Vexallus commences,_  
_Kael recalls the beginnings of the Scourge invasion_ _. ~_

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_First post 21 July 2014; rev 7 Sept 2015_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Special thanks to **Stinger** for help on the characterization of Arthas, and to **JackofNone** for help with the swordfight scene.
> 
> Finally, I want to recommend what I consider one of most exquisite Warcraft oneshots I've ever read: **ivoryandhorn** 's [Gifts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/32018). If I have managed to achieve even a _third_ of its power in my own Jaina-and-Kael scenes, I'll consider this chapter a success.


	6. The Halls of Theory (Vexallus), Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the "heroes" defeat Selin Fireheart and press onward to Vexallus, Kael'thas reminisces about Kel'Thuzad's banishment, the coming of the plague to Lordaeron, and Jaina's departure for lands unknown.

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~ : |6| : ~

**_I am invincible!!_ **

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Invincible? No, Selin, obviously not.

But that you adventurers think you were what defeated him! How ridiculous.

In truth, Selin was doomed to defeat long before you buffoons arrived on Quel'Danas. He was always blinded by impulse and desire. I do not know if he was truly unable to see the faults in those he worshipped, or whether he  saw them but willingly blinded himself. Not that it matters. Whether it sees the strings or chooses to ignore them, a puppet is a puppet.

I don't expect you to pay attention to what I'm saying, of course, busy as you are with stealing shiny baubles from the assembly chamber, but no matter: brutes and thieves rarely understand the concept of mastering one's self. When to use strengths, when to rein in weaknesses—that is the measure of true power. That is what determines whether one is the controller or that which is controlled. You cannot control your fate unless you have first learned to control yourself. Without such mastery, emotions cloud the ability to distinguish between what one can use, or change, or have… and what one cannot.

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It had been like the way one perceives an approaching storm: one might note far-off clouds, be aware of the loss of warmth as they encroach the sun, but usually it isn't until snow stings or rain drenches that the threat becomes real.

In retrospect, the harbinger had been six years ago, when Arthas Menethil had appeared to steal Jaina from Kael's workshop. The incident with Arthas marked the end of Jaina's visits and the beginning of her frequent absences from Dalaran; after that day, whenever Kael asked Antonidas where Jaina had gone to, "Travelling," was the only answer the archmage ever gave. The few times that Kael did see Jaina in Dalaran she was always accompanied by Arthas — and looked happy — so after a year Kael had morosely packed away the volumes on elemental mastery and advanced transmutation that he'd put on his bookshelves specifically for her reference and accepted that she was lost to him.

Three years ago the Kirin Tor had been stunned by the revelations about Kel'Thuzad. That the human had likely used the documents Kael had translated for him as the basis of his horrifying necromantic experiments had left Kael so sick with guilt that, after Kel'Thuzad's trial and expulsion from Dalaran, he had gone to Antonidas and offered to withdraw from the Six.

"What, and leave me with two vacant seats on the Council instead of one?" the old archmage had laughed. "I appreciate your honesty, Kael'thas," Antonidas had said, "but from the first I have maintained that you were an unwitting accomplice in this matter."

Kael had taken this to mean that another of the Six — most likely Krasus or Modera — had wanted to oust him along with Kel'Thuzad. Not that they or Runeweaver had any real reason for antagonism toward him; of all the Six, it was actually he and Antonidas who had been at loggerheads most often, primarily over the issue of the orc internment camps, and yet Antonidas always treated him with respect and what seemed to be genuine affection. Grateful, Kael had felt it was imperative that he demonstrate to Antonidas that his trust was not misplaced. "I realize now that I should have demanded to know the source of the fragments Kel'Thuzad brought me," Kael had said. "I should have challenged him to explain how the materials were relevant to his research. I won't make such an error again!"

"It wasn't just you who misjudged him," Antonidas had replied. "We all missed the signs. I suppose none of us wanted to believe that a trusted colleague had chosen such a dark path."

"Do we know where he has gone? What he's doing?"

"I'm told he sold all his holdings in Lordaeron," Antonidas had said, rubbing his eyes wearily, "for a substantial sum of gold, but both it and he have disappeared. My agents lost him in the Dragonblight after tracking him to Northrend; they fear he eluded them by hiding in the tunnels that lead to the subterranean ruins of the ancient spider kingdom."

"Azjol-Nerub?"

Antonidas had nodded. "If true, he's likely already met a fate far worse than any punishment we could have inflicted."

"It's no less than he deserves," Kael had said.

.

A few weeks after Kel'Thuzad's departure Astalor had come to Kael with news. "Prince Arthas Menethil and Princess Jaina Proudmoore have broken off their engagement," Astalor had said without preamble. "They're announced that they're going to 'pursue their studies' — as if anyone would believe such a fiction! Clearly she's finally tired of his boorish human ways."

Kael — who had carefully suppressed his reaction to the news — had been quite surprised by Astalor's sudden interest in twenty-year old Jaina's personal life: in the past Astalor had always seemed bored whenever Jaina was mentioned. "Boorish? I wouldn't go that far."

"Certainly you're not defending him? He attacked you!"

"He was a teenager, showing off for Lady Proudmoore. It was a mock duel. Neither of us took it seriously."

"How can you say that when he put his sword to your throat? He could have killed you! It was only Jaina's intervention that stopped him."

Kael had been disappointed that Astalor knew such details, as it meant that Rommath had broken a confidence, but that was a matter he could take up with Rommath later. "Yes, that is true; nevertheless, characterizing Prince Arthas as coarse and bloodthirsty is… inaccurate."

Astalor, looking skeptical, had shrugged. "If you say so, my lord."

"It's also an insult to Lady Proudmoore's judgment and intelligence, as he was the one she... chose to spend time with." Under the circumstances, Kael felt as though he could afford to be generous. "Prince Arthas is arrogant and hot-tempered, to be sure, but that's likely a common fault in humans his age. Mehlar says that the Grand Master of the Silver Hand speaks well of him; from what I've heard, this amounts to high praise, as Lord Uther's regard is not easily won."

Astalor had considered Kael for a moment, then said, "You are an enigma, my prince." Pressing his lips together — presumably to demonstrate that he was suppressing further comment — he had given a small bow and hurried off.

Kael had been puzzled by this behavior, as in general Astalor freely displayed his curiosity and enthusiasm for anything that caught his interest. In this, Kael thought with a smile, Astalor himself was much closer in temperament to Jaina than to Rommath, whose words and actions were so controlled that his moods were almost impossible to gauge. Not that Rommath and Astalor were complete opposites: both were dedicated and resolute once they had set a goal, but where Rommath was as quietly implacable as granite, Astalor had the raucous energy of a deluge. Kael valued them both, because they complemented each other so well; one was an immovable object, and the other an unstoppable force.

The question remained, however: why had Jaina caught Astalor's interest? Kael was certain that Astalor wasn't interested in her for himself, but neither was it  plausible that Astalor had passed on the information in order to encourage Kael to pursue her. Astalor couldn't know of Kael's feelings: not only had he never revealed them to anyone, not even to Eldin (at least not in so many words), he had been extremely circumspect in his public dealing with her. Kael suspected that Antonidas had intuited his true feelings, but the topic had never been discussed outright.

Well, what was important was the news itself. Was possible that a return to intense study might mean a resumption of Jaina's visits to his workshop? She was older now: perhaps the difference in their ages — which as far as he could tell was the major objection humans seemed to have against relationships with elves — was less of a deterrent? In anticipation of the reference works she might need to consult at this point in her training he had rearranged the books in his library in order to clear two shelves for the works on elemental magic and transmutation that he had packed away three years before. Dissatisfied with the selection, he had bought or borrowed two dozen additional advanced texts to display at eye level. He acquired new cushions for the reading couch, stocked the tea that Jaina had favored, and held as many of his meetings and consultations in his workshop as possible to ensure that he would be there if she came by.

But Jaina did not come by; in fact, he rarely saw her at all, and never alone. Most often she was with either Antonidas or Modera, looking studiously solemn. The few times she did take notice of him, she nodded politely before turning away.

Day after day, the sight of those untouched books saddened him; then came the day he finally gave into an impulse, snatching a book from the shelf and gripping it as if, if he only held it tightly enough, it would yield its secrets to him. When the smooth leather began to discolor and char under his fingertips he tossed the book into the air and obliterated it with a blast of fire. It was only then, as ash and tiny glowing sparks floated down onto his regretful hands, that he came to a still moment of utter calm, and decided that it was best after all to leave the books he had gathered for her on his shelves as they were, in order not to forget that she did not reciprocate his feelings, that there were some things beyond the reach of princes and kings, and that only fools raged against that which they could not change.

.

It was inevitable, Kael supposed, that anyone living among non-elves for a significant period of time would assimilate their ways. In general this was enjoyable, adding a variety of new experiences to be savored: the exuberance of human music and literature, the intricacies of gnomish inventions, the brusque simplicity of dwarven foods and beverages.

But there were other, less pleasant aspects, the most insidious of which was the way his perception of time had gradually been warped to the human scale. Centuries ago, when his life had been uncomplicated and blissfully full, he'd barely noticed the years fly by; each day had been like a breath, a deep, satisfying breath of new knowledge, new experiences… but now, now that he'd somehow made the transition to human-time, all too often the hours of the day pressed down on him. On such days his existence felt nebulously painful, as if he was struggling to breathe.

It didn't help that Dalaran itself felt emptier with each passing day. Where once there had once been throngs on the streets and in the plazas day and night, strolling and laughing and crowding around the many vendor stalls and street-side shops, now the city often looked deserted. The Council of Six had held a number of meetings over the past few years to discuss the causes of this decline: their consensus was that it was a consequence of the orc attack that had almost destroyed the city fourteen years before. "The long-term damage the war inflicted upon our citizenry's confidence," the report read, "was apparently far more extensive and much less amenable to magical mending than the stonework." This damage had taken a number of years to manifest fully: those who left immediately after the end of the war were primarily those who had been injured or lost loved ones in the attack and who, quite understandably, wanted to escape painful memories. There had also been a handful of skittish business owners who, despite being reassured that the city would be rebuilt in a week, said they needed to move out of Dalaran "temporarily" because they felt vulnerable with the city's outer walls in ruins. As expected, they never returned, which apparently sparked a gradually escalating downward spiral; every business that closed seemed to set off a small exodus of their customers, and as more and more residents left the city so did the businesses that tended to them.

In Kael's opinion, however, it wasn't just the war that was to blame for Dalaran's woes, but the proximity of the orc internment camps. Not that he supported those who wanted to slaughter the imprisoned orcs wholesale, but he didn't understand why so few favored the idea of using them as laborers until such time as the Kirin Tor could find a way to send them back to their homeworld without reconstructing Medivh's portal. As it now stood, however, the camps were both a danger and a financial drain on Lordaeron and the surrounding kingdoms. When one added to this the increasingly odd rumors of ritual murders in northern Lordaeron, it was no wonder that so many non-Kirin Tor human faces that Kael had grown accustomed to were gone from Dalaran.

Ironically, the city's quel'dorei were thriving. The society Kael had founded continued to grow, due in no small part to Tenris and Atherann's mission of "staunching Dalaran's hemorrhage" (as they put it) by traveling frequently to Quel'Thalas and inviting elves to visit Dalaran and experience "freedom from restrictive traditions and prejudices."

Kael was conflicted by their approach. While he himself had come to Dalaran to escape the scrutiny of those who would have criticized his interest in studying non-elven magic and culture, he felt as though the recruiters were sending the message that Kael wanted to undermine the quel'dorei's most ancient traditions… and by extension, the authority of King Anasterian.

That anyone would think this of him was horrifying, and so he discussed his concern with Rommath, who had become, not just an advisor, but friend, confessor, and confidante. Rommath assured him that, as he was not personally involved in the recruiting, no one would see it as an attempt to subvert his father.

"But how can they not? If they act in my name — that is no different than if I were there myself!"

"I disagree," Rommath said. "It is far different for a subordinate to say, 'Come to Dalaran, and if you are lucky someday you may join the Prince's circle,' than it is for a prince to say 'Join me.' The first is a social interaction between equals or near equals; the second will likely be seen as a strategic political move, acquiring allies and followers, building an army."

"I see." Kael shook his head. "What would I do without you, Rommath? Your diplomatic skills outstrip even your magecraft."

"There's no need to flatter me, your highness." Rommath always became either defensive or excessively formal when embarrassed — and sometimes both.

"Will you also accuse me of flattery if I say that I value your objectivity?" Kael asked with a smile.

"Of course not."

Despite looking discomfited, Kael knew Rommath was pleased. "Then it's settled," Kael said. "Tenris and Atherann can do as they see fit. I do, however, intend to personally invite one special person to join us in Dalaran."

"Oh? Who?"

"Seyla."

"Your brother's betrothed?" Rommath's expression was a solemn mask again.

"Yes," Kael said. "She might welcome the chance to leave Quel'Thalas and its painful associations behind." Kael had another reason for wanting Seyla in Dalaran, a less honorable one: he was hoping that spending time with her, remembering her connection to Eldin, might ease his own grief and help him feel more grounded.

.

When news came in that a band of orcs had attacked the internment camps and freed their comrades, many worried that the next target would be Dalaran. However, rather than retaliating for their imprisonment the orcs — both liberators and liberated — had disappeared.

Hoping to glean clues about where they might have gone and what they might be doing, Kael'thas and his inner circle had studied Antonidas' treatises on orc society. Other than admiring the thoroughness of the Archmage's research into orc history and culture — and his unexpectedly comprehensive knowledge of the effects of fel magic — Kael wasn't any closer to an understanding of the orcs' behavior. Theraldis theorized that rumors of the mysterious sickness in eastern Lordaeron had caused fear to dissuade them from the temptation of easy pickings, while Vanthryn thought the orcs had either been captured by or joined the death cults that supposedly operated in the same area. Kael, who recognized that both explanations were plausible, decided to ask Antonidas' opinion on the matter.

The Archmage's spacious outer office was a dedicated library, the largest in Dalaran. In the center of the high-ceilinged room was a large table, piled as always with assorted scrolls, tomes, bottles of elixir, and magical implements that shimmered in the midday sunlight slanting down from the skydome. The walls surrounding the table were a thicket of back-to-back bookshelves, the space between them so cramped and shadowed that it took Kael a moment to notice that someone was perusing the collection.

The blonde woman wasn't dressed like a typical mage; rather than a robe, she wore trousers and a white shirt. Oddly enough she appeared to be taking inventory; first she would consult a sheet of parchment in her hand, then take a book from the shelf and page through it before replacing it. Curious, Kael silently watched as she did this four times; the fifth book apparently met her approval, as she carried it to the table. It wasn't until she sat down next to a hooded Kirin Tor cloak draped on a chair that Kael recognized her.

"I almost didn't notice you back there in the shadows," he said softly.

Jaina looked up. "Hello, Kael'thas."

She looked older than the last time he had seen her, older and tired. There were scratches on her hands, and what looked like soot on her face; her eyes were tinged with pink. Kael wanted to ask about it, but the past six years had put too much distance between them to ask such a question without preamble. "Borrowing some books?" he asked.

"Yes." She took up a quill, crossed out four lines on her list, and then made a checkmark by a fifth before going back to the shelves.

Seeing her made Kael wonder, for the thousandth time, if things would have have been any different between them if she had been older when they first met. He knew it was pointless speculation, of course: if she had been older. If they had met a thousand years ago when Kael too was a student. If she had never met Arthas. "Reading material for a trip?" he asked.

"Something like that," she murmured, frowning at the list and then coming back to the table to make another notation.

Kael knew that people who had once had a romantic involvement often renewed their relationship after a period of time apart. Had Jaina and Arthas reunited? Perhaps even gone a step further, and decided to elope? "Honeymoon with Prince Arthas?" he asked lightly, thinking it was a reasonable assumption.

Startled, Jaina looked up at him for a heartbeat, then began moving the pile of books into a large ironbound strongbox. "No," she said tightly.

Kael was astonished: he'd had no idea the question would upset her! If she and Arthas were _not_ together, her reaction most likely meant that she still carried a torch for him? Perhaps they had tried to renew their relationship, only to run into difficulties? Or — was what he had taken for soot on her face actually a _bruise?_ If Menethil had hit her, Kael would annihilate him. "Jaina, what's wrong?"

"Nothing that concerns you," she said, turning away from him. She went to the far wall, pretending to look through the titles on the lowest shelf of the furthest bookcase, but Kael could tell that she was trying to discreetly wipe away tears.

He was horrified: what had he done? He wished he could take back his words… or at least say _Whatever you need, you have but to ask and it is yours,_ but he knew he hadn't earned the right to comfort her. Seeing her like this made him realize how superficial his perception of her had always been, how one-dimensional. How arrogant he had been to think he understood her! It was as if he had been in love not with an actual woman, but with the image of a woman. In that moment, Jaina suddenly became infinitely real to him, with so many more facets than 'eager student' and 'playful girl' and 'compassionate human' he'd mentally characterized her with before. His old feelings for her flared up in an entirely new way, humbling him, making him want to get to know her, if not as a lover, than at least as a friend.

"Why are you here?" she asked. She continued to move books on the shadowed shelf around, as if she could not bear to look at him.

He did not blame her; however inadvertently, he had intruded on her pain. "I came to ask Antonidas if he knew where the orcs have gone," he said.

"He left this morning, with Modera," she said, coming back toward the table. "I assumed it was to convene an emergency Council meeting."

"There is no meeting that I know of," Kael said, "Why would he call one?"

"Why the sudden interest in orcs?" Jaina asked, avoiding Kael's question. She carefully moved two volumes of the Dire Histories from the table into the box. "You've never cared before where they came from or what they are truly like. You'd be happiest if they were all dead."

"Yes, I spoke harshly against them in the past," he said, "but I've been reading Antonidas' treatises. If he's correct, and the orcs' initial aggressiveness truly was due to corrupting influences, then I agree that perhaps they be deserve to be approached with compassion —" He was cut off by her disbelieving look. "It's true!" he said, slightly hurt. "Haven't I always said it would be best if they returned to where they came from?" He paused. "Is that what's happened? Did they somehow undo Khadgar's work and reactivate the portal?"

"No," Jaina said. "I'm pretty sure they plan to cross the sea to Kalimdor." She was paging through a sheaf of notes. "But you don't really care where they go, do you? As long as they're no longer here."

"Yes," Kael said, knowing how much Jaina valued honesty. "It's enough for me to know that they won't be threatening Lordaeron and Quel'Thalas anymore."

"That's selfish," she said.

"If it is selfish to want to protect one's home, then yes, I am selfish."

She raised an eyebrow. "You consider Lordaeron your home?"

"Most certainly," he said. "It is as much my home as Quel'Thalas."

"Then why aren't you doing more to fight the plague?"

"We offered to put the affected villages under quarantine," Kael replied, "but King Terenas forbid it." _Perhaps you should question him,_ Kael added silently. "Our priests have been working with the Church of the Light in Stormwind, studying the victims in order to find a cure. I don't know what else we — what I — could do."

"A cure," Jaina said, but she wasn't speaking to him. She shook her head. "I have to go," she said. "I'm going to write up a report for Antonidas; will you give it to him as soon as he returns?"

"Of course."

She took three fresh sheets of parchment, wrote without stopping for several minutes, and then folded the report around the book list she had annotated.

"Six years ago, the day we met, you gave me a letter," Kael said. "Now you are giving me another one. I trust this one contains happier news?"

Jaina held the folded pages as if hesitant to relinquish them.

Kael realized that she was afraid he'd read it: this misjudgment hurt him more than anything she'd ever said or done. "Allow me," he said. He took a taper from one of the room's candelabra and pinched the wick into flame. "Refold your report so that we can seal it properly, princess. It is a royal missive, after all."

She looked annoyed but also amused. "You are too much," she said as she watched Kael tilt the candle to drip wax onto the parchment; when a sufficient amount had built up she turned her hand over and pressed her ring into the soft blob. "Satisfied?"

"Perfectly." Kael took the report. "Jaina — " he began, but as she looked up at him apprehensively, her smile gone, he realized that there never had been, never would be, the right time to say the things he had always wanted to say to her. "You are welcome to raid the library in my workroom," he said instead, taking a key from his pocket. "I'll be waiting here for Antonidas, so you'll have the place all to yourself. No need to leave a list of what you take."

"All right." She took the key. "Thank you."

.

After Jaina portaled out of the library — he had a brief glimpse of furled sails and a dock at her destination — he settled down to wait.

Reading was impossible; pacing only made him more fretful; all he could bring himself to do was sit and watch the passage of shadows across the wall as afternoon crept toward evening. He felt an oppressive sense of dread, of foreboding, similar to what he had felt when he'd last seen Eldin, only this time it was accompanied by an almost paralyzing fear, as if he were a wretched creature caught in a trap, too exhausted to struggle.

It was nearly dusk when Antonidas appeared, stepping through a shimmer. "And here you are, just as Jaina said."

"You saw her?"

"Yes, we crossed paths at the city portal," Antonidas held out Kael's workroom key. "I believe this is yours?"

"Yes." Kael took the key and handed Jaina's report to Antonidas. "And this is for you."

"Ah, yes. Thank you." Antonidas broke the seal and began to read. When he was finished he refolded the pages, his expression unreadable.

"So she's left Dalaran?" Kael asked. He was eager to return to his workshop and see which of his books Jaina had taken, but it would be impolite to rush off. "Will — will she be back soon?"

"Jaina," Antonidas said, "is the least of my concerns at the moment." He moved his scrying bowl onto his desk and conjured water into it. "We need to convene an emergency meeting of the full Council as soon as possible."

"The full Council? Why? What has happened?"

"Ten days ago," Antonidas said, rocking the bowl until the water began to swirl, "I sent Jaina to Brill to investigate that illness that's been striking villages in northern Lordaeron. She discovered that it's no ordinary sickness, but a plague developed by our former associate, Kel'Thuzad."

"Kel'Thuzad?" Kael was certain that Antonidas had misspoke. "But — he died in Northrend!"

"Apparently he did not," Antonidas said. "He returned to Lordaeron in secret and gathered malcontents interested in necromantic magic. They caused the plague by poisoning crops, including all of the grain that went to Andorhal's distribution warehouses."

"He — he must be caught and punished for this! Hundreds will become infected and die!"

"Hundreds have already died," Antonidas said wearily, "among them the entire city of Stratholme, which was put to the torch to prevent the plague's victims from rising as undead."

"Why? Why would Kel'Thuzad do such a thing?" Kael asked, horrified.

"Before Arthas Menethil executed him, Kel'Thuzad said that the demonic nathrezim plan to scour the living from our land." Antonidas gripped the sides of his scrying bowl. "They'll soon discover that Lordaeron isn't so easily scoured!" Antonidas took a deep breath, then continued. "Arthas has sworn vengeance on the demon responsible."

"Is that where Jaina went? With Arthas?"

Antonidas looked at him sharply. "No, she has taken it upon herself to lead the uninfected to a place of safety."

"Across the sea to Kalimdor?"

Antonidas frowned. "I certainly hope not. The orcs may have been influenced by that deranged individual who invaded Terenas' court with dire warnings about 'shadow and flame,' but both Jaina and Arthas are too level-headed to take such sensational nonsense seriously."

"Yet in retrospect," Kael said carefully,"doesn't it seem his words came true?"

"I don't see how you can come to that conclusion," Antonidas said, "unless you claim that the plague is the 'shadow,' and 'flame' refers to the burning of Stratholme?" Antonidas raised an eyebrow. "Then again, there are both flames and shadows when I sit by the fire at night, but I hardly think my reading habits warrant stampeding the populace." He swirled the water again, and then spoke down into it. "Emergency Council meeting. Return at once." He added, "If that so-called prophet did indeed foresee Kel'Thuzad's plans, giving us more detailed information would have saved hundreds of lives."

_A pall, red and black, falls over the gold and green of Quel'Thalas' forests…_

Kael looked down at the key in his hand. "So Jaina is leading a group of refugees to a new home? A difficult undertaking."

"Don't underestimate her," Antonidas said. "She is very capable. If she put her mind to it, I've no doubt she could command the Kul Tiras fleet."

"I — we all would rest easier knowing that she is not shouldering such a burden alone."

After a pause Antonidas said gently, "Kael'thas… there is no path to her heart for you."

It was painful to hear this stated so frankly: Kael acknowledged that Antonidas understood Jaina better than anyone in Dalaran, probably even better than her own father. "I know," he said, "but I will never stop being concerned for her well-being."

"No one would ask you to," Antonidas said, dissipating the water in the scrying bowl. He created a teleportation rune for the Chamber of Air. "The others are on their way. I want to begin as soon as they arrive."

"I'll be there in a moment," Kael said. "I need to consult a book in my workshop first."

.

At first he thought the heavy twilight in his workshop was deceiving him, and so he lit first one and then a half-dozen lamps, but they all showed him the same sight: his library was untouched. Jaina hadn't taken a single book; in fact, it didn't appear that she had even looked at them, as the dust on the shelves and the tops of the books was undisturbed. This wasn't entirely unexpected, he told himself: the Archmage's library was extensive, Jaina was well along in her training and hardly a student anymore, so it was possible that she'd acquired or otherwise referenced all the volumes he'd bought especially for her years ago. Still, he thought that she'd have taken at least one… His face stinging as if he'd been physically slapped, Kael turned to see that Jaina had, however, left something. In the center of his worktable was an object wrapped in red velvet. Suspecting what it was as soon as he picked it up, with a sick heart Kael unwrapped the cloth to see the antique quel'dorei dagger of transmuted truesilver, inlaid with sapphires and mother-of-pearl, that Jaina had accepted as a gift from him six years before—just moments before Arthas Menethil had invaded his workroom.

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Kael was silent during the Council meeting, the roaring in his ears blurring all meaning in the streams of discussion flowing around him. Not even Krasus' piercing glare fazed him, but then again why should it? Krasus too was quel'dorei, and so was certainly capable of describing the efforts Silvermoon's priests were making to cure the plague.

After Antonidas announced that they would be re-convening the following afternoon, Kael went to his chambers. As he locked the door he wondered what his father Anasterian had done each time he had shut himself away to grieve. Had he raged? Had he numbed himself with drink, the way lesser races did? Or had he simply sat, unmoving, as silent tears coated his throat and soaked his robes?

Unfortunately, unlike a king's, a prince's privacy was not always respected. It was only a few hours before he heard the first discreet knocks on his door, the first murmurs of worry in the hall. He ignored them as long as he could, but when the light taps became pounding and the whispers began to sour into argument he knew there was no use pretending that he couldn't hear. Feeling more or less purged of his misery (and somewhat ashamed at its excess), he composed himself and opened his door. Rommath and Astalor. If any of the others — Lana'thel, Sandoval, the twins — had been with them Kael would have kept up the mask of impersonal distance that he felt a prince should wear for his subjects, and would have sent them away, but these two he considered friends. He invited them in, smiled at their small talk, and finally, after admitting that he was in some distress, told them an abbreviated version of the story of his love. It wasn't as deep a confession as he would once have made to Eldin, but nevertheless they way they listened, solemn and unjudging, left Kael feeling gratifyingly unburdened.

After they left he went to sleep. A few hours later the knocking came again.

It was Rommath, but this time he was alone. Looking surprisingly disheveled—and smelling of Brightsong wine—when Kael invited him in Rommath clumsily knelt and emphatically pledged his life to Kael. "I will do anything for you, my prince," Rommath had said. "Anything you ask of me. Anything to ease your pain." He repeated this over and over.

Kael, disconcerted by this uncharacteristic outburst and unsure of its cause, thanked Rommath for his loyalty and tried to disengage himself, but it wasn't until Rommath threw his arms around Kael's knees and looked up at him with raw longing that Kael realized precisely what was being offered. "Please, my lord. Please. Let me comfort you." Attempting to handle the situation tactfully, Kael suggested that Rommath go back to the rooms he shared with Astalor. "Tomorrow," Kael said, helping Rommath to stand, "tomorrow we can discuss how you can best serve me." It was a difficult situation, to be sure, and Kael did not envy the mortification Rommath would feel when he was once again sober, but nevertheless Kael felt it important to reject Rommath more gently than he himself had been rejected. He did not want to lose him — or Astalor, for that matter.

As it turned out, by the time Kael'thas saw Rommath again far more important events overshadowed any lingering awkwardness between them, and as time passed the incident receded more and more, until finally the memory seemed more a dream than something that had actually happened.

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_first post 29 October 2014; rev 21 October2017 _


	7. The Halls of Theory (Vexallus), Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Kel'Thuzad dead and Prince Arthas in Northrend hunting down the instigators of the plague, the Council of Six leads the initiative to eradicate the Scourge from Lordaeron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OCs: Vranesh the Elder and Nima; everyone else is canon.

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~ : |7| : ~

_Drain… life!_

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Tell me, brave adventurers — if you knew what you would have to defeat before you faced me, would it deter you?

No need to answer. I'm sure you would say, "Of course not! We are heroic champions of all that is good and noble! We shall not waver! We shall triumph over evil!" Don't try to deny it—all those who think of themselves as heroes say such. Still, you're probably thinking that if you did know what was ahead you could prepare your defences, your tactics and strategies.

I could just let you charge blindly into the Halls and watch as your ignorance destroys you… but it might be more entertaining to supply you with the truth instead. Of course you won't believe me, thinking I'm luring you down a false trail. Kael'thas the Mad. Kael'thas the Wretched. Kael'thas the Hateful.

How very wrong you are.

Vexallus is an arcane elemental who will give you power — and then use that power to destroy you. Summoned by accident, its unexpected appearance destroyed a half-dozen of my most talented arcanists, all of whom were extremely experienced in elemental studies and interdimensional teleportation. Like you, they knew there was danger in their undertaking; like you, they took what they probably thought were appropriate precautions; and, like you, their arrogance sealed their fate.

So, be my guest. Believe me or not; take heed or discard what I say. Whatever you choose, whatever you do, you are doomed.

.

.

Kael'thas had known Antonidas for a very long time and considered him an exemplary mage and scholar, but his opening remarks to the Council of Six the following day displayed his mettle as the leader.

"Those who have chosen to remain in the uninfected areas of Lordaeron," Antonidas began, "have rightly been concerned that the plague will spread. From the very beginning this Council has proposed measures to contain and combat the disease, but in the past… those suggestions were rejected."

"And now?" Runeweaver asked.

"King Terenas' councilors," Antonidas said, "remembering our recommendation to quarantine the affected villages for study, have recently requested our aid. Given the information that has recently come to light about the genesis of the plague of undeath, I have pledged the efforts of this Council and the nation of Dalaran to heal Lordaeron's citizens and coordinate the efforts to eradicate the Scourge from her lands."

"Terenas' councilors?" Modera said. "I see. They assured you that Terenas now gives our efforts his full support, did they?"

Antonidas said carefully, "The suffering of his people these past months has weighed heavily on the king. Now that his own son, Prince Arthas, has left for Northrend on a dangerous mission to hunt down the instigators of the Scourge, is it not understandable that Terenas' advisors wish to lighten his burden?" Antonidas then directed the Council to reconvene in the meeting room of the inn, where various groups were to present information and advice relevant to the plague.

As Kael'thas entered the meeting room he saw that the room's small tables had been pushed together to make one large one in the center of the room. It seemed a fitting symbolic gesture for the diverse gathering, which included elven and human priests, landholders (presumably from areas adjacent to the affected farms and villages), a dozen or so armored soldiers, and a lone dwarf dressed in an outlandishly elaborate robe.

As the participants dragged chairs to the table and began to seat themselves around the table, the dwarf — whom Antonidas had introduced as Earthmender Govrum — made pointed comments castigating unnamed 'idjits' for not destroying every storehouse and granary in Lordaeron.

"It isn't a priority," a slightly pompous knight named Sir Othmar replied, his voice cutting through the din. "Even if what remains is tainted — which I doubt — there's very few left to eat it. Most of the populace is waiting out the plague in the capital, which gets its bread from Ironforge and Stormwind."

 _Bread paid for by Silvermoon,_ Kael added silently. Lordaeron's citizens needed to be fed while their farms were infested with undead, but it was disappointing how few acknowledged that quel'dorei had donated the gold that paid the human and dwarven bakers.

"The dauntless few that refuse to be driven from their lands are smart enough to only eat what they can hunt and gather in the forests," Sir Othmar continued. "They're safe." He lifted his head proudly. "My men are on the front lines killing Scourge. Far more important than burning buildings."

"Then yer a damn fool," Govrum said. "You think humans are the only ones who eat? What about mice and rats? And ye haven't been burning the animal corpses, have ya?"

Sir Othmar laughed uneasily. "Well, surely — "

"Mice and rats are eating the infected grain. They get eaten by hawks and eagles, passin' the plague along. Flies land on carrion, takin' the plague to bats and spiders the same way. An' what do ye suppose happens when all those infected birds and bats shit in the forest? They spread the sickness to deer and squirrels and rabbits who eat the plants, that's what! Haven't ye wondered why everything has been goin' yellow-brown, and spiders are growin' to the size of men, and bears and wolves are runnin' around with more open sores than pelt?"

"I —" Sir Othmar, flustered, nervously smoothing his extravagant moustache .

Govrum drew his eyebrows together and jumped to his feet, growling. "How much tainted meat do ye suppose is out there, right now, waitin' to cause the plague, and more every day, all because you and your shiny soldiers are chasin' after glory?" He slammed his fist on the table, startling half the room.

"That's enough," Antonidas intervened. "I believe you've made your point."

"No one cares about the land or the beasts," Govrum grumbled as he settled back into his chair.

"Earthmender Govrum raised a good point," Antonidas told Sir Othmar. "Make sure to get the word out that it's dangerous to forage or hunt."

"And be prepared for the appearance of plague in those who ignore the warning and continue to eat fresh venison and other wild game," Runeweaver added.

The last report was a summary of the surveillance reports from scouts who had been observing the pockets of Scourge from a safe distance.

As he listened, Kael was once again struck by the contrast between the virulence of the plague and the behavior of the Scourge creatures the plague created. Like those who had died from eating the tainted grain, those the Scourge infected with plague rose as undead, but the reanimated were not aggressive unless attacked. According to reports, they primarily paced back and forth or stood in one spot, swaying, until they decomposed.

"Well then," one of Othmar's soldiers said, "it's easy. We'll fence 'em in, wait til they fall apart, then burn what's left."

Kael frowned and shook his head. "Something's not right."

"What do you mean?" Sir Othmar asked.

"Because," Kael said, trying to sort his thoughts, "Kel'Thuzad was a brilliant necromancer. Even if the idea for the plague came from the dreadlords, Kel'Thuzad nevertheless mastered extremely advanced magics to create it. To have the resulting undead be so vulnerable, so easily defeated, is surprising."

Othmar was outraged. "If you think he was so great, go join his damned cult!"

"You misunderstand me," Kael said, feeling mildly offended by the knight's belligerence. "What Kel'Thuzad did was despicable, an affront to the reputation of mages everywhere, but he was undeniably brilliant. To claim that his Scourge was meant to wipe out the living, but to create creatures that are so ineffective, is puzzling."

Drenden nodded. "I agree with Kael'thas. It's sloppy work. Not at all like the Kel'Thuzad we knew."

"He might have done it deliberately," Modera said. "Creating a defective weapon in order to sabotage the nathrezim's plans."

"I don't think so," Runeweaver said, shaking his head. "If one of us were forced to create such a plague, yes, I can imagine such a scenario, but Kel'Thuzad genuinely relished the necromantic arts, and was prideful to boot. I've no doubt that the Scourge is exactly what was asked for." He thought for a moment. "What if they're… unfinished? Perhaps Kel'Thuzad was stopped before he could carry out their final evolution."

Modera asked Kael, "Anything useful in the papers that Kel'Thuzad left behind?"

"I turned it all over to Nima," Kael said, acknowledging a brown-haired gnome. "She's the best translator we have."

Modera turned to Nima. "Well?"

Nima shrugged. "I've gone through it, but what he left wasn't important. Magically, I mean. It's all mundane stuff: financial records, property deeds, shopping lists."

"How can that be?" Krasus asked.

"Just because something's written in Eredun doesn't mean it's an evil incantation," Nima said.

"I suppose not," Runeweaver chuckled. "Could Kel'Thuzad have left instructions with the members of his cult?"

Drenden shook his head. "I doubt it. Since his death they've done nothing. He badly misjudged them if he expected them to complete his work after his death."

"Not surprising, however," Antonidas said. "From what we've seen none of them have anywhere near his power or training. Most were lured to the cult by promises of wealth, power, and eternal life; with his death they've gone back to being harmless wheelwrights and stonemasons."

"Still, we should continue to watch them," Modera added. "Discreetly."

"Of course."

"I wonder," Runeweaver said thoughtfully, "if the Scourge could simply be… waiting."

"Waiting?" Drenden asked. "For what?"

"I have no idea," Runeweaver said.

"Then we should thin their numbers as much as possible," Kael'thas said, "before whatever they might be waiting for comes to pass."

.

By the end of his second day hunting and destroying the listless Scourge in Lordaeron, Kael'thas felt he understood his father Anasterian in an entirely new way. Previously, Kael had always wondered why his father insisted on leading their forces into battle, but now Kael suspected that Anasterian also found it satisfying to physically defeat an enemy.

If only solving everything was as simple as killing Scourge.

Foremost in his mind, or course, was worrying whether Jaina had reached a safe haven with the refugees she was shepherding. Then there was the issue of Seyla, who, after a few awkward meetings where they desperately searched for a topic of conversation, had left Dalaran for a retreat house somewhere near the dwarven lands. Seyla had made a vague graceful excuse about feeling exhausted, but Kael knew the truth: the sight of Kael brought back too many painful memories of Eldin for Seyla, as the sight of Seyla did for him. Finally there was Rommath, who had not yet returned from Silvermoon — a fact Kael was reminded of every time he caught Astalor glaring in his direction. In the face of all these worries and problems he could not resolve, beheading and incinerating undead was a welcome respite. Visible progress, tangible benefit, and as a bonus he returned to Dalaran each night so physically drained that most nights he had only enough energy to eat and fall into a dreamless sleep.

Of course, the endeavor of cleansing Lordaeron was not without its risks. It was a painful lesson that not all the undead were as mindless or passive as had been reported. Kael's group and the other squads began to come across Scourge who had come through death with their mental facilities intact — or at least intact enough to set up successful ambushes. As the merest scratch from certain undead killed within minutes — and as those so felled rose as undead almost instantly — the hunts became more stressful even as the number of Scourge declined.

"Obviously we've killed off all the stupid ones," Keleseth quipped after a narrow escape.

Kael couldn't bring himself to laugh; not when every casualty, elf or not, tore at his heart. It wasn't just the initial deaths — although those were bad enough — it was that whenever someone fell to the Scourge, they had to behead companions they had fought with less than an hour before.

On the third day, he and four others had just finished purifying a farm near the northernmost guard tower when Vanthryn's squad came into view, riding south. A dark-haired elf was in the group, and Kael, happy that Rommath had returned, led his group to to greet them.

As he got closer he was disappointed to see that the elf was not Rommath. "What news?" Kael asked Captain Vanthryn.

"We've been killing tiny shrieking creatures along the shore," Vanthryn said with a shrug. "They hardly seem worth the effort, but they leap comically high when they die. Unfortunately they've already poisoned most of the edible aquatic creatures."

Kael asked, referring to the brown-haired elf, "A new face?"

Vanthryn nodded. "Joined us two days ago."

"I feel as though we might have met," Kael called to the newcomer, "although I cannot recall your name."

"Fireheart, my lord," the elf said, coming closer and then dropping to one knee. "Selin Fireheart. I was hardly more than a boy when you supported my petition to squire for Vranesh the Elder."

"Ah, yes," Kael said. "Ancestor's Day. You waited near the portals to give me a message."

"Yes my lord. I'm honored that you remember."

Kael did not see any reason to admit that for him the day had been memorable primarily because it was the day he had left Quel'Thalas to join the Kirin Tor; after all, there was no point in disappointing his newest follower. "And have you enjoyed your years with the Champion? You must have learned much; his weapon skill is said to be incomparable. Perhaps you can help instruct some of the others in armed combat?"

Selin hesitated before answering, "Of course, my lord. If you wish." He glanced at Vanthryn, who shrugged and rode a short distance away. "I will tell you in confidence," Selin said once Vanthryn was out of earshot, "that many of the things the Elder Champion taught me… I did not wish to learn." He looked down as if such criticism was a transgression. "When I heard the call to join your circle in Dalaran, it was though I had been given wings to soar from my cage."

Kael wasn't sure what to make of this confession, but as it seemed Selin did not intend to give further details he did not ask for any. "We are pleased to have you here," he said.

.

Within the month the Scourge seemed to have disappeared from Lordaeron. Most felt that they had simply done a good job at eradicating the undead, but others pointed to scattered eyewitness reports that undead had been seen moving east through the forests under cover of night. Others reported seeing small groups of undead along the Greenrush river, the one the humans called Thondroril.

"They are mistaken," Sir Othmar said. "Anything that wanders onto the area gets eaten, especially that far north. If you'd taken the time to ride out there you'd have seen for yourself. Hellish grasshopper things that hide in burrows in the riverbank. Tear a man to shreds in a heartbeat, before you can even raise your sword."

"But the reports — " Kael started to say. He had been worried, when they had first started fighting Lordaeron's undead, that the offensive would simply drive the Scourge into Quel'Thalas, but the elite squadron stationed at the Thalassian Gate had reported nothing more than a lone undead now and again, wandering as if it had lost its way. 

"The reports are wrong." Sir Othmar sat back and stroked his moustache. "I tell you, my squads have eliminated the undead. We stamped them out while your Silvermoon milksops were riding around admiring the scenery."

"Is it possible," Antonidas said, obviously trying to defuse the situation, "the undead attempted to cross the river, but were swept downstream?"

"If that had happened," Kael said, "wouldn't we have seen their corpses in the river? Or clogging Darrowmere Lake?"

"Hm. I suppose not."

"Explain it, then," Sir Othmar asked Kael. "If they're still around, why we aren't seeing them?"

"I think they're hiding in Stratholme," Kael said. "Think how many the ruins could hold! It's perfect: the area is secluded, surrounded by toxic vegetation and stench of carrion. The living don't go near."

"Ridiculous," Sir Othmar said, "and even if it wasn't, our troops man the barricades to the south. Nothing can get out, so obviously nothing got in."

"What if they scaled the hills east of the river?" Kael countered.

"Corpses climbing mountains?" Othmar sputtered in derision. "Next you'll be claiming they have picnics and go a-courting by the lakeside!"

"Speculation is pointless," Krasus said, "unless you can answer why the undead would leave their current hiding places and cross a river simply to go into Stratholme."

"Maybe they're sentimental?" Drenden ventured. "Maybe the ones that died there, or had friends and family who lived there, remember enough to want to go back?"

"And again, I would ask why," Krasus insisted.

Sir Othmar snorted. "You elves. Always looking for complications and mysteries when the truth is right in front of you. I tell you, my squads have taken care of the undead problem. It's our hard work here in Lordaeron that's keeping your homelands safe. Don't you forget that."

Kael, who had had his fill of Sir Othmar's snide remarks, was about to object when an acolyte ran in and, bowing apologetically, gave a message to Antonidas. The archmage read the message, then waved his hand for silence. His face was grave. "Arthas Menethil returned from Northrend two days ago. "

 _So he's back._ Kael knew it was petty, but he was secretly glad that he had been able to see Jaina before she left, and Arthas had not.

"The gates of the capital have not opened since."

.

It was another day before the full extent of the horror came to them, when a gryphon rider who had been able to coax her mount to fly over the capital reported that the courtyards were filled with piles of corpses… and crowds of undead.

"The plague," Runeweaver said, shaking his head. "How could it happen? Who would do such a thing?"

"I doubt it was malice," Antonidas said. "Likely someone who had eaten tainted grain or meat and didn't know they were carrying the disease until it was too late."

"And then…" Drenden looked uncharacteristically somber.

"The thing I don't understand," Runeweaver said, "is why they'd lock the gates. Surely not everyone was infected?"

"Same strategy Prince Arthas used at Stratholme," Modera said. "Contain the outbreak. Prevent the undead from escaping and ravaging the countryside further."

"And, as at Stratholme, an action that doomed many who might have been saved," Kael'thas said.

"Terenas and his son probably went down fighting," Drenden said sadly. "Such a pity. That boy would have made a fine king someday."

"What should we do?"

"I don't know what we can do," Antonidas said. "With such a number of undead, it is unlikely that there are any survivors."

"We'll do what we've done in smaller areas," Runeweaver said. "We'll wait for the undead to decompose, then burn the remains."

Kael was silent as the others discussed the assignment of squads to guard possible exit points from the capital. Imagining what was going on inside the walls of Terenas' city… Yes, he'd considered Arthas a rival for Jaina's affection, but it was not at all how he'd wanted the rivalry to end. To die in such a way, trapped, facing overwhelming numbers of undead, fighting what he surely would have known was a losing battle… it was a fate Kael would not have wished for anyone, not even Arthas.

.

With the undead in Lordaeron under control, life in Dalaran almost returned to what it had been pre-plague. True, the streets were still almost deserted, and Astalor had — without consulting Kael — suspended the weekly gatherings, but with Rommath in Silvermoon and many of the inner circle either out either patrolling or recruiting, the core group was spread quite thin. it was understandable.

It was a week or so after they'd received the news about Terenas and the capital that Astalor, Vanthryn, and several others rushed into his workshop, looking stricken. With them was Mehlar Dawnblade, an elven paladin of the Silver Hand who had been mentored by Uther Lightbringer himself.

"What is it?" Kael asked. "Has something happened to Rommath?"

"No," Mehlar said. "The gates of the capital have opened, releasing an army of ten thousand undead."

"They're different now," Astalor said. "Remember Runeweaver saying the undead might be waiting for something? It looks like he was right: they were waiting. For leadership."

"And now they have it?" Kael said.

"Yes," Mehlar said. "Generals and commanders. They have led their unholy force east, cutting down champions — Gavinrad, Ballador, Sage Truthbearer — as if they were mowing weeds. Even The Lightbringer has fallen."

"Uther as well?" Kael knew how important Uther had been to Mehlar: Uther had brought Mehlar into the Order despite the objections of some. "Is the Silver Hand no more?"

"As long as even one of us draws breath," Mehlar said fiercely, "the Silver Hand will bear the Light into battle. Saidan Dathrohan is leading those of us who remain. Although I intend to fight at his side, I believe that it will take a coordinated effort to stop this new wave of undead, and so I ask that you gather what forces you can and report to the general for assignment."

"General?" Kael asked. "What general?"

"Our good friend the Baron of Blackwood," Astalor replied. "It seems Sir Othmar Garithos has been promoted."

.

After Mehlar left to return to Hearthglen, Kael and Vanthryn sent Astalor and the others off to round up Society members then made their way to Dalaran's main entrance.

The Great Gate of Dalaran's massive doors, like the thick walls that enclosed the city, were not, strictly speaking, necessary in a city protected by magical wards; however, the Kirin Tor acknowledged that the non-mage population took comfort from such tangible symbols of the city's security.

Usually the view through the Great Gate was a peaceful one of Lordamere Lake and the grasslands and undulating hills surrounding it; today, however, the scene was a thicket of soldiers and tents, threaded through with lines of Lordaerani waiting for inspection by plague-screening priests in order to take refuge in the city. On a small hillock to one side of this chaos Garithos sat impassively on a white warhorse, ringed by a bulwark of lieutenants. From the snippets of conversation Kael and Vanthryn picked up as they approached him it seemed that small groups of undead kept splitting off from the main force, presumably to re-capture the various towns along the way spread the plague to anyone they encountered. Garithos' lieutenants apparently were assigning each group of knights or unarmored common folk the defense of a particular village or farm.

"Whoever or whatever is leading this army now is smart," Vanthryn said. "They know that we can't risk allowing the plague to be re-seeded. By splitting off those groups of undead they're forcing us to splinter our forces as well."

"But they're spreading themselves thin as well by this tactic," Kael said. "If we can defeat them fast enough."

"Let's hope victory is determined by strategy and not sheer numbers," Vanthryn said. "If this turnout is any indication, the undead already have us outnumbered by a factor of two or three."

They stood patiently while the groups that had been waiting when they arrived received their assignments, and then somewhat less patiently as both the general and his various lieutenants pretended not to notice them.

"This is intolerable," Vanthryn muttered.

"Calm yourself," Kael murmured back. "Power is intoxicating to those unaccustomed to it. I'm sure they'll condescend to notice us soon."

"Sunstrider! What're you gawping at?" Garithos asked after three more groups of humans had approached, received their assignments, and left.

Kael, who had become accustomed to Sir Othmar's hostility over the course of several Council meetings, said in a tone he hoped would be taken as respectful, "I was told you were coordinating forces to fight this invasion of undead, General. I am gathering my people; we have several dozen experienced fighters." Kael put his hand over his heart and made a small bow. "We are at your disposal."

"Is that so? Several dozen, eh?" Garithos chuckled. "Well, If we hear the undead are planning to attack any frilly curtains, we'll let you know."

"How dare you address a prince of the Sunstrider dynasty so rudely!" Vanthryn exploded.

"Are you threatening me, elf?" Garithos shot back as his entourage tensed. 

"Of course not, general," Kael said, not looking at Vanthryn. "We are only here to offer our aid. If it is not needed, we will trouble you no more."

Garithos pursed his lips, then said sourly, "Tell you what. The undead are marching along the High Road. If you can manage to find any, kill them."

"And if any groups of undead veer from the road? Should we pursue them?"

"No," Garithos said. "Stay on the main force. If you do your job, there will be none left to veer."

Kael nodded, and with a warning look at Vanthryn, turned to go.

"Rancid pile of slug droppings," Vanthryn grumbled as they made their way back inside the city.

"Let it go," Kael said.

"How are you able to tolerate his insults?" Vanthryn asked.

"I tell myself that we fight, not for Garithos," Kael replied, "but for the people of Lordaeron."

.

When Astalor returned his group included a group of priests who had been studying the plague as well as a tall, frail elder with sharp features and long silver-gold hair.

"All I could find," Astalor said. "I put the word out for anyone with combat experience to join us as soon as they are able."

Kael addressed the elder. "Master Voren'thal," he said, "your offer to assist us is most generous, but I must respectfully ask you to stay in Dalaran."

"Why?" Voren'thal asked crisply. "Magister Sunsworn said there was an urgent need. Lest you think I am too old to accompany you, I will point out that I am centuries younger than your father. Would you presume to prevent him from riding into battle?"

Kael said carefully, "You are one of our greatest artists and a living treasure. I cannot allow you to expose yourself to the dangers of the Scourge."

"Yet I assume you will allow the others to risk themselves," Voren'thal said. "So which is it: that they are expendable, or that you think I am too senile to make my own decisions?"

Kael was certain he did not deserve such ill-will. "Neither," he replied. "However, unlike the others gathered here, you have not spent hundreds of hours these past few months battling and observing the undead. No matter how well-intentioned you are, we cannot afford your inexperience in this situation. Mistakes could be fatal."

"Mistakes often are." Voren'thal sounded irritated, but also somewhat appeased.

"Master Voren'thal," Astalor said after a quick glance at Kael, "It would be a great help to us if you would fly to Silvermoon and appraise Magister Rommath that an undead army has emerged from Lordaeron's capital city, and that we all may be absent from Dalaran for an extended period of time as we fight it." Astalor added, "Tell him too that it is my personal request that he stay in Silvermoon and continue his work there."

Voren'thal raised an eyebrow as though he considered Astalor's request a task beneath him, but then he lifted his head proudly. "So I am to be a messenger of doom? I cannot escape that role, it seems." As he turned to go he said, "And so the descent into chaos begins."

.

A grizzled gray-bearded man hobbled up to them as they were hurrying to the city portals. "Sorry to bother you," he said, bowing to Kael, "but the archmage asked me to make sure to find you and give you a message before you left."

"You are?" Kael asked.

"Kassan, sir." The old man bowed again. "Portal porter."

"Ah yes, I see." Kael took the small folded paper. " Thank you, Kassan." He unfolded the paper: it said simply _Still at sea — landfall soon._ "Please tell the archmage I am grateful for this information," Kael said, unexpectedly moved that Antonidas had taken the time to give him this update about Jaina. How odd that, despite the disparity in their ages, Antonidas had become a second father to him! He vowed, after the fighting was over, to find a moment to express the sentiment to him.

.

Fortunately, undead marching _en masse_ were little different than they had been when loitering in groups of two or three on Lordaeron's farms: they only attacked the living if the living attacked them. While Garithos' troops, outfitted in full plate, could afford to set a dozen or more undead aflame by lobbing a barrel of flaming oil in their midst, Kael's forces, lightly armored as they were, had to be more cautious. Peeling one creature away from the tail-end of the march at a time, Kael's squads of four killed, dismembered, and incinerated again and again.

The lumbering, inexorably-moving army barely seemed to notice.

"Where do you think they're going?" Keleseth asked Kael as he decapitated a smouldering corpse. "Stratholme, to join the others?"

"It could be."

Kael barely heard him. Voren'thal's dire parting comment about descending into chaos echoed in his mind, recalled the day he had stood on the balcony of Sunstrider Spire and looked out over the treetops of Quel'Thalas' vast forest, imagining it as a dark sea whose depths hid danger. Just as he had that day, he again felt some vast horror approaching, something that would devour his world the way a whale shark's vast maw scooped up tiny fish. "Swimming away is the only escape," he murmured.

"What?" Astalor and the others had stopped talking and were looking at him, puzzled.

"Nothing," he said. "Let's save Lordaeron again."

.

.

.

first post 20 Nov 2014; rev 2 Sept 2015 (for some reason Earthmender Govrum was named Gavran!)


	8. The Halls of Theory (Vexallus), Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scourge comes to Quel'Thalas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OCs: Sol'thana, Celinar, Exemplar Vantia, and Exemplar Prwyndou. ~ The other 28 characters in the chapter are canonical NPCs (though most are quite minor). 
> 
> This chapter is gratefully dedicated to **Bryn** and **Arreku97.**

.

.

~ : |8| : ~

_Un… con… tainable._

_._

_._

Sounds like you're finding the encounter more difficult than you had anticipated?

Not surprising: the magisters and arcane researchers who summoned Vexallus did as well. I didn't know much about any of them other than their names and faces, but I can imagine their reaction. They would have tried to stay calm, of course, worked together to regain control; that is the reasonable thing, the "proper" thing, to do in most dire situations. Ironically, if they had panicked, run off in different directions, it might have saved them. Sometimes our instincts offer the best course of action. I suppose some might say, "But how could they have known that was the right thing to do?" I would remind them (as Telestra so often reminded me) to "Remember first principles!"

I'm certain you have no idea what I mean; I shall try to put it simply enough that you can understand.

To the uninitiated, magical energy is an infinite resource subservient only to the will of the mage who channels it. No part of that is correct. Magic obeys certain inflexible rules, rules that practitioners must learn and respect. One such rule, perhaps the cardinal one, is that magic demands _balance_. Understand this, and you can see that casting a spell does not _create_ power, it merely _transfers_ it from elsewhere—the Twisting Nether, an imbued artifact, the life-force of the mage or another creature. The same principle applies to any permanent enhancement: there is a maintenance cost, often manifesting as a vulnerability or limitation. For Vexallus, the ability to turn solidarity into a weapon is bound to that specific location in the Hall; other creatures might, for example, find sunlight lethal, or be twisted into a hideous monster when absorbing demonic power for a good cause, or find their invulnerability dependent on the safety of hidden physical objects…

But enough of that.

I am curious to see how much further you will advance before you are defeated.

.

.

"Did Garithos think we would fall to these undead?" Selin asked as he dodged an abomination's chained hook.

"If he did," Vanthryn replied as he and Luthion rushed in behind the monstrosity and swung their blades to disarm it, "he surely will be disappointed."

Kael tossed swirls of flame at the grotesque, still-moving pieces of the abomination and allowed himself a smile.

They had caught up to the undead army just past Andorhal, relentlessly harrying the trailing end as it shambled eastbound; past Darrowshire and Crown Guard Tower, over Lake Mereldar's bridge and through Corin's Crossing, and then north, past Eastwall. Vanthryn angrily claimed that the human soldiers who periodically galloped past had been sent by Garithos to monitor whether the elven forces were doing as they had been commanded; Kael thought it more likely that the soldiers were simply going to fight yet another group of undead that had splintered off from the main force to attack a nearby farm or village. Ultimately it didn't matter to Kael whether Garithos was spying on them or not: what mattered was that his quel'dorei continued to press onward without complaint. Every time he gathered with them around the supply wagon where they dutifully drank plain water and attempted to eat the dry, almost tasteless Dwarven flatbread supplied daily by Dalaran, every time he saw someone take one of the "community blankets" to nap on the hard ground, his pride in his people was so fierce that it literally made his chest ache. After days of almost nonstop combat Kael knew his people were weary—the close calls, near-misses, and injuries were becoming more frequent—and though they had not lost anyone, it was discouraging that, no matter how many undead they killed, the sheer numbers never seemed to decrease.

As they followed the procession of undead past Eastwall Tower and northwest toward Stratholme, Selin shouted to Kael, "You were right! The undead _are_ gathering in Stratholme!" Kael found no joy in this small victory, only worry. Why would the undead leave themselves open to attack by marching to Stratholme when they could have continued to occupy the capital, safe behind Terenas' high stone walls?

As they pressed on, coming in sight of where the main road sent off a branch north toward the Thalassian Pass and Quel'Thalas, they were relieved to see no undead had broken away from the main host. "They know we are unassailable," someone crowed. _Do they?_   Kael wondered. _Or is it that the humans of Lordaeron are simply more convenient targets?_

They were fighting south of Northwall Tower when a lone rider emerged from the blighted underbrush near the road and headed toward them at at full gallop.

It was Mehlar Dawnblade. "I have only a moment," he said without dismounting from his skittish horse, "but as I had heard you would be fighting here I raced to bring you word. A group of undead did break from the main force and head north, toward the Pass."

"How long ago?" Kael asked. "Can we outrun them?" Gone in an instant was his resolve to obey Garithos' orders: if the Scourge were marching on Quel'Thalas, Kael and his contingent would stop them.

"I do not know," Mehlar said. "It was only by the Light's grace that we learned of this at all, when during a lull in our battle we found a trampled message-hawk from Quel'Lithien. There is no way to know when it was sent out."

"So it could have been hours or even _days_ ago?" Selin asked.

"Yes."

"If you knew of the threat, why did you not ride out immediately in defense of Quel'Thalas?"

It was an accusation, but Mehlar remained calm. "The guard post at the Thalassian Gate is well-garrisoned," he said. "Even if an undead force managed to take them by surprise, you know full well that the runestones and Ban'dinoriel would keep Eversong and Silvermoon safe in the few hours it would take for the Rangers and Farstriders to locate and eliminate the invaders. Lordaeron is not so fortunate in its defenses, and so I felt the best use of my blade was here, fighting the thousands of undead that have been streaming through the Plaguewood and into Stratholme."

"A pathetic excuse," Luthion said. "Who cares if undead occupy Stratholme? It's a ruined city. A _human_ city. Let them gather there and rot."

Mehlar was clearly about to give a less-than-calm reply when Vanthryn cut in. "Once an army becomes entrenched," he said to Luthion, "it's much more difficult to rout them. Stratholme is not as fortified as the capital, but with the mountains at its back and sides it is as easily defended."

Mehlar nodded curtly. "Thank you for understanding. May the Light be with you," he said, then spurred his horse and rode back toward Stratholme.

.

"Shouldn't we have called on Quel'Lithien?" Atherann asked as they hurried through the rocky defile that led from Lordaeron to Quel'Thalas. "Cyndia's brother is—"

Astalor shot back, "Their response to seeing the undead march on Eversong Forest was to tie a slip of parchment to a bird's leg."

When at last the Thalassian Gate came into view Kael expected to either see a battle underway, or to see its aftermath. What he saw instead were undead, packed into the arched corridor of the Gate like unholy sheaves; in front of them, the ground was littered with bloody, broken Thalassian armor and reddish-black gobbets of decaying flesh. The sight repulsed and angered him so much that he—as well as a half-dozen other elves—instinctively began to move forward to attack.

"Stop!" Vanthryn shouted, grabbing Kael by the shoulder. 

"Doesn't it make _you_ sick," Ennas asked, "to see those hideous creatures polluting our forest?"

"Of course it does," Vanthryn snapped back, "but I have the discipline not to be goaded into carelessness. Have no fear, I _will_ see these undead destroyed before they can bring the Scourge to our lands, but I will not add to their numbers."

Kael was grateful for Vanthryn's level-headed counsel. "What do you suggest?"

"Channel a protective shield," Vanthryn said, "while our archers take down the large hook-and-chain wielding abominations. We know the havoc those monsters can cause."

To Kael's surprise, rather than rushing forward to retaliate for the attack once the first abomination went down, the undead simply shuffled their positions to put  the hulking monstrosities out of range… and then did nothing.

"They're trying to lure us closer."

"It seems so," Vanthryn said slowly. "Let's fall back and see if we can be the ones doing the luring."

The group retreated to a point out of sight of the undead and waited, weapons ready.

"They do not advance?" Valanar said.

"Why would you expect them to?" someone asked.

"They outnumber us at least five to one," Vanthryn said, "perhaps as much as ten to one. There is no way we can out-flank them in this narrow space, and yet instead of rushing forward and overwhelming us they have chosen to hunker down. I think we should consider that these undead might be very different than those we've been fighting in Lordaeron. Did you take note of the figure near the back, the human in dark armor?" Vanthryn asked, intent on the empty road. "I've never seen his like in any of the undead we've fought. He is no mindless ghoul: he watches with intelligent malice."

"Could he be one of the newly-commissioned Scourge commanders?"

"If he is, then those undead are not the usual aimless opportunists wandering into a new area. but soldiers following orders." Vanthryn thought for a moment, then looked south, in the direction of Lordaeron. "Fighting at the Gate would make us vulnerable to ambush by a second force approaching from Lordaeron… but we know that."

Kael waited.

"If I were in that Scourge commander's place," Vanthryn continued, "I would never expect an enemy to be foolish enough to walk into such an obvious trap. He expects us not only to see the trap but to avoid it…which means it's intended to delay us, distract us, or to force us into taking certain actions. But what…" He looked back over his shoulder in the direction of the Gate and frowned. "What I don't understand is why are there no Ranger or Farstrider forces attacking from Quel'Thalas."

"Perhaps the undead haven't been at the Gate long enough for the alarm to have been—"

"No," Vanthryn said, "the undead took the Gate at least two days ago."

"Oh, you can't know that!" Astalor said. He'd been unusually quiet since they'd left Dalaran, but Kael couldn't tell if this was due to the harshness of combat or simply a result of Rommath's prolonged absence. When Vanthryn pointed out—in detail—how one could tell the approximate time of death from the color and condition of the remains, Astalor looked as though he'd regretted asking.

"This is easy," Lana'thel said. "Open a portal to Windrunner Spire. Sol'thana and I can rally the Rangers."

"What if that's exactly what that undead commander _expects_ you to do?" Valanar countered. "What if you step from the portal to find all the Rangers slain and a dozen undead waiting for you?"

"That's ridiculous," Lana'thel scoffed. "Why do you always bring up such dire scenarios?" She turned to Kael and Vanthryn. "I'll bring the Rangers, and we can turn the tables on the undead. Attack them from both sides of the Gate."

"Ah, at the risk of sounding as _dire_ as my brother _,_ " Keleseth said carefully, "in the event that the Rangers are deployed elsewhere and unable to accompany you, might it not be best if more than two of you attack from the Eversong side? I am no military tactician, but it seems as though it might be more efficient to re-take the Gate with two groups of approximately equal size."

"If they see only half our group attacking from the Lordaeron side," Sandoval pointed out, "they'll guess our plan instantly."

Astalor sighed. "Hopeless… we have one of the most talented illusionists in the entire Kirin Tor with us, and you can't imagine anything he could contribute?" He looked around. "Celinar! How many can you handle?"

A mage with short brown hair stepped forward. "Hm… well, I'm sure I could manage at least nine unique simulacra casting nonsynchronously, but I assume you'll also want Lana'thel and Sol'thana standing at the back pretending to be Rangers? That will require a separate cluster."

"See?" Astalor said. "A creative solution."

It was decided that in addition to Lana'thel and Sol'thana the group going to Windrunner Spire should include a priest, Kael, and three additional mages. After Malande, Zerevor, and Theraldis volunteered, Kael was surprised when Astalor spoke up. "I'll go as well," he said. "I know a secluded spot under a goldenbough tree near the Spire; if we portal there we'll be hidden from the sight of any invaders."

Vorath snickered. "A secluded spot?"

"It's not what you think, you degenerate," Astalor replied. "It was a perfect place to sit and watch the sea."

Kael found this comment puzzling until he remembered Rommath once saying that Astalor had been raised at The Sanctuary, the spiritual retreat village nestled in the mountains of Quel'Thalas' southern border.

"What a shame you didn't finish the Exemplar training," Vorath said. "Such a waste of your natural benevolence."

"I chose not to take the vows," Astalor snapped back, "so I wouldn't have to pretend to feel compassion for idiots."

"Whenever you two are done," Kael said, "Celinar can take our simulacra."

.

They emerged, just as Astalor had promised, under an ancient tree on a grassy ledge midway up the cliffs. From their limited vantage point the Spire looked deserted.

As Lana'thel and Sol'thana went to investigate, Theraldis said, "It _is_ a beautiful view of the water." It was an obvious attempt to make up for Vorath's rudeness, but Astalor was having none of it.

Lana'thel and Sol'thana soon returned. "There's no one there," Lana'thel reported. "All the cookfires are cold, but there are bowls of uneaten food on the tables, as if everyone left in a hurry. Most of the weapon racks are empty."

"If they're not at the Thalassian Gate, where are they?"

"I don't know, but it looks as though there's activity in Windrunner Village. Sol and I can go check? We could regroup just past The Sanctuary."

"Approach the village with caution," Kael said. An odd trepidation had been prickling his skin since he came through the portal. In part it was due to the unusual silence: there was no birdsong, no humming cicadas, no animal cries at all. Even the wind was still.

Lana'thel nodded. "I feel it too. Something is not right."

As Lana'thel and Sol'thana set off to the north, toward Windrunner Village, Kael and his group went southeast, following the base of the Thalassian Range.

As they approached the rocky outcroppings that curved like an embrace around The Sanctuary, they noticed that a wide swath of the grasses and mosses of the woodland leading into the valley had been crushed and flattened, as if by wagon-wheels and many feet. In some places the vegetation seemed to be fading to a sickly yellow-green.

And then they moved forward a bit more, and The Sanctuary itself came into view.

The Sanctuary had been a lovely place, a shaded refuge of winding paths and small waterfalls, with dozens of artfully placed nooks for semi-private meditations and clusters of small huts and cottages. The gathering place at the center, a velvety lush greensward patterned with rows of white stone benches, had been edged with small vegetable gardens and fruit trees, tended by the Order of Exemplars… but now all was a broken, despoiled ruin. The gardens and orchards looked as though some wild beast had torn through them, breaking branches and uprooting the smaller trees and bushes; the greenery was as sickly yellow-brown as anything in Lordaeron;  and everywhere there were huge ragged holes, wide enough to swallow a small wagon, as if bombs had exploded just under the earth. Nothing moved in the devastated landscape except for wisps of smoke from the charred, still-smouldering buildings.

"Look," Kael said, barely able to find his voice, "for survivors."

As Astalor moved toward the center of the gathering place and the others ran up the curving stone paths along the canyon walls to the remains of the cottages, Kael walked to The Sanctuary's tiny graveyard. He had no idea why he was looking there of all places, but somehow it seemed just as important to ensure that the peace of the departed had not been disturbed as it was to search for the living.

Fortunately, the cemetery plots seemed undisturbed, and so he began to descend into the Crypt of the Keepers. He had taken only a few steps down the stairs when a current of cold, fetid air gusted over him, bringing a charnel smell so overpowering that it made him stagger back. A lance of pure fear stabbed his chest; and in his terror he was unable to move, knowing that any instant something would emerge from the dark and kill him… and then someone shouted, which broke the spell long enough for Kael to hurry up out of the crypt.

He saw Astalor and Malande on the far side of the green. Astalor was kneeling by a purple-robed body while above him Malande was casting non-stop healing spells. As Kael ran toward them he heard Astalor say, "Exemplar Vantia, it's Astalor. Someone hurt you, but I'm here now, and you're safe."

When Kael was close enough to see who Astalor was addressing he felt fresh horror. Half the gray-haired caretaker's body was gone; what remained was a torn mangle of flesh and exposed bone. Kael was certain that she could not be alive, but to his astonishment the eye in the undamaged half of her face slowly blinked at the sound of Astalor's voice.

"If you can," Astalor said to her with heartbreaking gentleness, "tell me who did this."

She made a gurgling sound that was almost a laugh… and then there was a prolonged hiss, and then she was gone.

"No. _No!"_ Astalor cried as Malande took him by the shoulders and turned him away from the body. "I have to… I have to find Prwyndou! I have to tell her. She needs to know!"

As Kael saw the rivulets of tears streaming down Astalor's face he could barely hold back his own emotion. "We will," he said, following as Malande led Astalor  away from the body. "We will do it together."

Astalor, lost in his grief, said nothing.

Lana'thel and Sol'thana appeared suddenly, shouting as they sprinted toward The Sanctuary, "Undead! Undead!" 

"Where?" Zerevor said, hurrying down from the upper paths. "I don't see any,"

Lana'thel stopped running and twisted around to look in the direction of Windrunner Village. "They _were_ chasing us," she said—and then, as she turned and took in the devastation of The Sanctuary, her face seemed to crumple. "Oh, no… what happened here?"

"We don't know," Malande said quietly. She had put her arms around Astalor and was rubbing his back in comforting circles. _  
_

As Lana'thel went to examine one of the pits more closely Kael motioned Sol'thana to walk with him, out of Astalor's hearing, and then asked, "There are undead at Windrunner Village? You're certain?"

"Yes," Sol'thana said, "and signs of a battle. Blood, broken weapons and furniture, overturned lamps."

"The undead there—are they—?"

"No," she said. "They're ghouls like the ones in Lordaeron. Not elves."

As guilty as it made him feel, this news was a relief. Although he'd become almost indifferent to incinerating the plagued corpses of dead and undead humans, the prospect of having to destroy his own people… he knew he wasn't the only one dreading it. He could accept that the absence of quel'dorei undead at Windrunner Village might mean that the dead had risen and wandered off, but it occurred to him that a more likely explanation was that the entire Ranger population had, as soon as the invasion was sighted, rushed from Windrunner Spire to ensure that the Village was safely evacuated before any enemy reached it. Yes, this must be what had happened. Surely they would meet up with Sylvanas and her archers soon.

Lana'thel, who had knelt next to one of the holes and had been holding her hands over the empty space, sat back on her heels and turned to them. "It's… I think this is a tunnel. At least this one is; I can feel a faint flow of air coming out." She crawled forward and then disappeared inside.

Kael tensed, expecting any moment to hear her scream as she was seized by some ravening monster, but after a moment she reappeared and walked back to them, brushing dirt from her hands and knees. "Whatever came out of that tunnel was big—and it certainly wasn't made by any animal I know. And it probably wasn't alone; the floor is hard-packed and the walls are polished smooth."

"How many animals would it take to do that?"

"Dozens at least? Maybe hundreds?"

"So where have they all gone?" Sol'thana asked, shivering. "Did they use those tunnels to escape? Will they be back? And why attack The Sanctuary? There was nothing here but peace and innocence."

Kael, looking out of the valley at the trampled, yellowing verdure, knew why; the dying swath had been made, not by those marching _into_ The Sanctuary, but by those marching _out._ With the Gate on one side and the Rangers keeping watch on the sea to the other, the only way to stealthily bring a large force into Quel'Thalas was to find a point in-between. The Sanctuary had been that midpoint, and it had been destroyed simply because it was in the way. The real question was, had this new enemy simply taken advantage of the disorder that the undead were causing, or had they somehow coordinated with the undead? Either way, it looked as though Quel'Thalas now had two enemies to fight. "They won't get far."

"Let's stop talking and find them," Astalor said. His tears had dried and his former gentleness was gone; now his eyes were now frighteningly cold, and he radiated brittle fury.

"We need to rejoin the others at the Gate," Kael said. "Destroy the undead by attacking them from both sides, remember?"

"Of course I remember!"

"So go ahead with Malande and Lana'thel and Sol'thana; the rest of us will follow in a moment."

"You don't want me to see you burning Exemplar Vantia's body," Astalor said. "You think the undead killed her, that she's infected with the plague."

Kael knew better than to lie. "Yes."

"It wasn't undead that killed her," Astalor said. "They don't dig tunnels. But have it your way." He incinerated the corpse with a single enormous fireball, and then  turned and walked out into Eversong Forest, toward the Thalassian Gate.

.

When he thought about it later Kael supposed that Astalor had shown great restraint, waiting until Vanthryn and the Lordaeron group—both real and illusory—were in place and had started their attack before he unleashed. Of course, once he began he had hurled fireball after fireball without pause, tirelessly setting each rank of undead aflame. Kael wasn't sure how Astalor was managing to expend so much power so fast until he saw the blood soaking the sleeves of the younger mage's robe. _Blood magic._ Kael was appalled, but under the circumstances he supposed it was understandable. He certainly didn't intend to report Astalor, and he didn't suppose anyone else in their group would either.

It didn't take long to dispose of the rank-and-file undead, although it was surprising how many of them were packed into the alcoves of the Gate (one hundred and eighty-seven, according to Pathaleon). Through all the fighting the undead commander stood at the exact center of his dwindling forces: from time to time he threw out a silencing spell, or placed a circle of disease on the ground, but mostly he watched the extermination with a faint, chilling smile, until he alone remained. As a dozen elves plunged swords and daggers into him he said, in an eerily echoing voice, "Too late… he has what he needs."

And then Vanthryn cut off his head, and he spoke no more.

.

Kael was gratified to see that a second group of Dalaran elves had arrived at the Gate during their absence. Vanthryn suggested that the newcomers be assigned to guard the Gate against new incursions of undead from Lordaeron and to begin filling in the tunnels at The Sanctuary against additional waves of the mystery invaders.

"A solid plan," Luthion said. "Will you stay here to command them?"

"No," Vanthryn said. "I'll get them started, but I know most of them; they're very capable, know what needs to be done and do it."

Lana'thel approached Kael. "I'd like to suggest we make camp here. The undead don't need sleep, but we do, and though they'll never admit it, there's quite a few who who've been fighting almost non-stop and are ready to drop. The newcomers can stand watch; they're well-rested, as they didn't have to fight anything on their way from Dalaran."

"So we _aren't_ going to go after the monsters who attacked The Sanctuary?" Astalor asked angrily.

"Tracking unknown creatures when our company is exhausted is hardly wise," Andorath said. "Sleep is our best ally now."

Astalor turned away in disgust, muttering.

Kael understood his anger, but as he watched most of those who had fought that day carrying blankets into a tent some distance away he knew that Lana'thel and Andorath were right. "We will leave after those who need sleep have had a chance to rest," he said, then joined those who were sitting by the fire.

"I wonder where whatever attacked The Sanctuary came from," Taldaram said to no one in particular. "There are no caves under The Sanctuary."

Astalor, who was apparently still within earshot, replied furiously, "Why are you all so obsessed with what they were or where they came from? All we need to know is where they are so that we can kill them."

"Knowing where they came from will tell us what they are,  what they want, and where they're going," Navarius said, sounding like a schoolteacher.

"Oh Navarius!" Theraldis said quickly, apparently worried that Astalor wouldn't take well to such a patronizing tone. "Always the pedant!"

"Stratholme," Vanthryn said thoughtfully. "They could have come from Stratholme. In terms of absolute distance it's not far; just the other side of the mountain."

"That's absurd," Luthion said. "The undead can't dig, they're made of rotting flesh. And before you tell me that they must have had help, I'll say again that it's absurd. It would have taken _weeks._ And what about the excavated dirt? Even _one_ tunnel that long would have produced a huge pile, and Sol said there were what, a dozen tunnels? I'm telling you, Mehlar or someone would have noticed piles like that appearing all over Stratholme."

"Not if the dirt was scattered around," Vanthryn said, "or hidden in the houses that are still standing. And even if there were piles out in the open, no one's been going that close to the place, let alone entering it. I think the undead partnered with something, with whatever made the tunnels. Joined forces to invade Quel'Thalas. Put the undead at the Gate to throw us off or slow us down while they marched out through The Sanctuary."

"Giant worms," Taldaram said suddenly. "Burrowing worms eat the soil as they go."

Kael wasn't sure whether he should allow such a glib discussion, especially with Astalor presumably still eavesdropping, but before he could say anything Zerevor snapped, "Shut up! None of you saw what those monsters did to The Sanctuary."

"Whoever or whatever," Vanthryn said after a long silence, "it tells us that the neither the leaders of the undead nor the leaders of these mystery invaders know much about Quel'Thalas' defenses."

"Ban'dinoriel will trap them," Sandoval said with zeal, "like rabbits in a snare."

.

A few hours later, after checking in quickly with the groups stationed at the Gate and The Sanctuary, they set out for Windrunner Village.

As they headed northwest and crossed the path of yellowing vegetation—which some were now referring to as "The Dying Path"—Kael thought of Lordaeron. Lordaeron had once been as green as Quel'Thalas, but was now drained of beauty and color, its people hiding in fear yet safe nowhere, every village and outpost polluted with undeath—. From the corner of his eye he saw a flash of movement off to his right, something pale and low to the ground, and he immediately threw a fireball at it. The creature writhed in flames for a moment then collapsed, pulling spindly legs to its bloated belly as it died. A spider, as huge as those in the plagued regions of Lordaeron. No, he would not permit his Eversong Forest to suffer Lordaeron's fate.

And yet the undead commander's dying comment kept haunting him. _He has what he needs._ Who did the commander mean? What did they have? Kael couldn't think of anything that an invader _could_ take; other than the land and the people, everything else of value was safely behind Ban'dinoriel… 

The undead at Windrunner Village were, as Lana'thel and Sol'thana had said, the same sort of decrepit ghouls seen in Lordaeron, although much more aggressive, charging as soon as the elves came into view. Astalor, to Kael's dismay, re-opened the gashes in his forearms, put up a ferocious fire shield, then charged at the undead in turn, igniting them.

"Well," Gathios said, re-sheathing his unused sword. "That's done."

From Windrunner Village they marched along the bank of the Elrendar's south branch. Looking in at the Sanctum of the Moon on their way to Tranquillien, they found it as empty as the Spire had been, although at least there, unlike Windrunner Village, there were no signs of battle.

"The magisters must be nipping at the invaders' heels as well," Navarius said as he examined the racks of arcane potions and powders above the alchemist's workbench.

"We haven't heard any sounds of battle," Sol'thana said to Lana'thel as they left the Sanctum and continued east, toward Tranquillien. "Do you think the invaders have already been defeated?"

"I hope not," Astalor said. He kept shaking off Ennas' attempts to heal the wounds he'd re-reopened for his blood magic, saying, "Stop it. I _want_ to be in pain."

"Without knowing how fast they move, and how many days ago they emerged… it's more likely the fighting is taking place near Silvermoon by now."

Lana'thel sounded matter-of-fact as she said this, but Kael discerned a wistfulness in her expression, as if she wished to be in the thick of a larger battle instead of the less heroic task of trudging from village to village scrubbing away the undead. He wondered how many of the others—other than Astalor, that is—felt the same; should he hurry their group north? No, he didn't think so; while he understood the impulse, he still felt that the best time to eliminate the undead was now, when they had so few victims available. "The defenders of Silvermoon surely have the invasion well in hand," he said. "I too am eager to join them, but I think we can best serve Quel'Thalas by cleansing the stray undead from our forest before they establish footholds."

"I agree," Selin said quickly.

"Take heart, Lana," Sandoval said. "Since the magisters haven't come back to their sanctums yet the battle must still be going on."

"Unless they're all well into a drunken celebration in Silvermoon by now," Keleseth said, "and we're missing the fun."

"I have an idea," Luthion said. "We could make the rounds much faster if we split into two or three groups. I could take a group to check the other sanctums while the rest of you go to Tranquillien, and we could send someone to the Enclave. At the very least we should ask the Farstriders where they've been patrolling—there's no need to re-check the areas they've been."

"The Farstriders?" Astalor scoffed. "Do they actually do anything useful? I think all they do is go off in the forest and polish each others' arrows."

"Don't forget filling empty quivers," Tenris said, earning hearty laughter.

"We don't need their help," Vanthryn said, "and even if we did, there's rarely anyone at the Enclave except the cook and the bowyer."

"Oh right, they have a cook! Let's at least go there to eat," Veras begged. "Farstrider food has to be better than dwarf bread. I would _kill_ for a bite of grilled lynx steak."

"And it might kill you in return," someone pointed out. "You saw the size of that spider; the plague has already infected Eversong's aminals. Haven't you noticed how quiet it is? The birds have already died."

"Thanks for dashing my hopes," Veras said dryly.

"We should stay together," Atherann said. "If we are divided and come upon the undead army, what then?"

"Do you think it will make any difference?" Valanar replied. "Thirty will hardly be better than ten against ten thousand."

"Ten thousand?" one of the newer arrivals asked. "Are there that many invaders?"

"We're not going to waste time going to the Enclave," Vanthryn said to Luthion. "If we're lucky, we might run across someone who's been patrolling the troll areas."

"Then why didn't we see any Farstriders near the Gate?" Luthion asked. "If there are, as you say, _so many_ out patrolling."

"It is their way to remain hidden," Vanthryn said.

"You oppose everything I say. Why?" Luthion asked, giving Vanthryn a less-than-friendly shove. "My ideas are as good as yours."

"What you just did?" Vanthryn growled. "Was _that_ a good idea?"

"Enough!" Andorath said. "What is _wrong_ with all of you? Have you already forgotten what Prince Kael'thas said about why we're here? it's not to make frivolous remarks about food, or to fight amongst ourselves! We are here to protect our homeland!"

Everyone became quiet after this, and the trek to toward Tranquillien continued in almost complete silence for a good half-hour.

.

As they once again crossed The Dying Path, which hewed almost directly north, Navarius and Freywinn stopped to gather samples of the vegetation and soil.

"Usually you can see the dragonhawks from here," Sarannis said, shading her eyes as she looked up the road that ascended to Tranquillien. "I guess everyone must have flown to Silvermoon."

"No," Sandoval said, "I don't think that's what happened." He pointed to a spot near the road, a small hollow partially obscured by a tree. In it was a ragged heap of yellow-orange.

Sarannis ran to look closer, and then returned a moment later to ask mournfully, "Why? Why destroy such beautiful creatures?"

"Because they fly," Solarian said.

Despite the fate of the dragonhawks, Tranquillien—which unsurprisingly was as deserted as the Spire had been—restored Vanthryn's good mood. "Centrally located on higher ground, pre-existing shelters… this will be an excellent base of operations," he said. "We can make it the distribution center for non-tainted food and drink, if someone can start a stockpile." He and Lana'thel then started discussing the most likely targets for undead encroachment—the Sun Sanctum, Andilien Estate, Suncrown and Goldenmist villages—and the most efficient route to investigate and safeguard them.

"Are you going to bring food in from Silvermoon?" Mellichar asked hopefully as he watched Pathaleon clear a space in preparation for casting a portal.

"No, we'd have to pay for that," Pathaleon said. "As long as Dalaran is handing out free food, I'm going to take as much of it as possible."

There was a collective groan. "It's not free if it takes a toll on your stomach," Veras grumbled.

Seeing that everything was under control, Kael walked a short way up the path to Sungraze Peak to where Astalor was pacing.

Astalor gave Kael a sullen look. "They act like this is… a recreational excursion," he said with undisguised contempt.

"Everyone here has fought as hard as you or I since we left Dalaran," Kael said. "Most of them have never encountered a real enemy before, and aren't accustomed to the ranger lifestyle. Don't begrudge them a little comfort."

Astalor looked away.

Kael wanted to suggest to Astalor that he quietly portal to Silvermoon and spend a few hours with Rommath—it was his impression that the two friends had been estranged ever since Rommath's return to Silvermoon—but not only was he unsure of how to broach this topic, he wasn't sure that he should. As Eldin used to say, _Mediators are perfectly positioned to be skewered by both sides._

 _"You_ don't need to endure these conditions," Astalor said. "No one would blame you if you went to Dalaran and slept in your own bed, or ate decent food." He grimaced. "Unless you enjoy dwarven flatbread and rock cheese."

"Very few know of our secret stash at the palace," Kael said. "Vigorous chewing is the key to the royal bloodline."

Astalor gave a half-chuckle. "The secret to Sunstrider longevity, revealed at last," he said, but an instant later he added hurriedly, "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean…" He rubbed his face. "I suppose I should sleep soon."

Kael knew Astalor hadn't meant his joking comment as a disrespectful reference to Eldin's death, and so he forgave him. "I made the decision to stay here," he said after a moment, "because my place is with my people. I can't ask them to do anything I wouldn't do."

.

A group that had scouted Andilien returned, reporting that the few ghouls skuling at the estate had been easily routed. Kael asked to take the next assignment if those who would accompany him had had a chance to rest. Vanthryn seemed surprised but of course agreed, directing Gathios, Tenris, and Selin to accompany Kael to the Sanctum of the Sun.

As the other had been, this sanctum was too empty, but Gathios observed that, unlike the Sanctum of the Moon, this sanctum's weapon racks were empty.

"While you look for other clues here," Kael said. "I am going to check something in the clearing."

"Of course," Gathios said.

It was probably nothing, Kael told himself, but he took the shortest path possible around the base of the cliff, moving quickly east and then north toward An'telas.

Even though he had considered the possibility, the sight still shocked him. The cloak dispelled, the hidden temple revealed, its altar smashed, its crystal taken. He was hurrying down the hill, planning to quickly check An'owyn but dreading what he might find there, when he saw Gathios and Tenris approaching.

"We became concerned when you did not return," Selin said.

"What is that?" Tenris asked, looking past Kael to the temple. "When was it put there?"

"I don't have time for explanations," Kael said, and this of course was true—but it was also true that only the Convocation magisters and the highest ranks of the Farstriders were allowed to know of Quel'Thalas' most powerful defense, the magically-cloaked temples that concealed the Key of the Three Moons. Precisely placed at intersections of ley-energy, the three crystal fragments sustained Ban'dinoriel, the unassailable shield that protected Silvermoon and Quel'Danas.

_He has what he needs._

"It's time to send someone to the Farstriders," Kael said.

A ranger in dark blue amor stepped from the thicket that had concealed him. "How many Farstriders would suffice?" he asked, smiling.

Kael was almost certain that the speaker was Halduron Brightwing. A moderately high-ranking ranger, if Kael recalled correctly, but if he did not have knowledge of the Gatekeeper he was of limited usefulness. "You may know that invaders destroyed The Sanctuary," Kael said.

"No, I did not." Halduron looked genuinely surprised. "When did this happen?"

"How could you have missed it?" Selin asked.

"I don't go that far west," Halduron said calmly. "We generally patrol the eastern border, keeping an eye on Amani activity."

"You must indeed have the distance vision of an eagle," Tenris said, "to observe the troll fortress from this far north."

"I am not the only one out of place," Halduron replied smoothly, "unless it is it customary for a band of thirty to roam the forest with a long-absent Prince."

"What are you insinuating?" Selin asked angrily.

"I do not insinuate," Halduron said, "only observe."  He turned back to Kael. "The trolls have been unusually quiet the past few days; many of their villages are nearly deserted. We think they have withdrawn to the center of Zul'Aman, but for what purpose, we do not know."

"Hiding from the invaders," Gathios said, then added, "or considering how best to take advantage of the fact that, until we made camp there, there was no one to stop them from occupying Tranquillien. Or Windrunner Village, for that matter."

Halduron looked as though he might finally take offense, but said only, "We received word that there was unexpected activity in the Amani catacombs," he said. "Lor'themar came up here to investigate, but when he didn't report back…" He looked up the hill, toward the temple wreckage, and said, "Who revealed it?"

So he did know, at least some of it. "I only know that it is hidden no longer," Kael said.

"Hidden?" Tenris asked. "Are there other hidden places?"

Kael didn't reply; he and Halduron studied each other until Kael kept that they had come to an unspoken concordance.

"If you'll excuse me," Halduron said at last, "I need to continue my search for Lor'themar. I assume you haven't run into him?"

"No."

"Where do you suggest I look for him?" Halduron asked, as casually as if the question had no import.

"How is Prince Kael'thas supposed to know that?" Selin asked.

An'daroth, the third of the temples, was almost directly north of the Sanctum of the Moon, and midway between Goldenmist and Suncrown. "We haven't been north of the Sanctum of the Moon," Kael said.

"So it's possible that he's in that area between Goldenmist and Suncrown? That's very helpful," Halduron said with a small bow. He then left them so swiftly that only a rustle of leaves marked his departure.

"How rude," Selin said.

"Back to Tranquillien?" Tenris asked.

"Not just yet," Kael said. "Let's follow this road south and see if any undead are infesting anything along the way."

"Does that mean we're checking another hidden place?" Tenris asked.

Kael didn't answer, but once An'ownyn came into view he didn't have to. Another cloak dispelled, another altar smashed, another crystal missing. Unlike An'telas, however, here there were undead: an abomination, several ghouls… and two undead elves.

As Kael started to cast a needle-like pain stabbed at his head and the world seemed to _ripple_. He staggered; as Selin steadied him he heard Tenris say, "What was that? Did anyone else feel that?"

"What's wrong?" Selin was asking him.

"I'm fine, it's gone now," Kael said. "It was just a momentary pang. Let's dispose of these undead quickly; I'd like to get back to Tranquillien before sunset."

"Sunset?" Tenris laughed. "You have lived too long in the human lands, my prince. Have you forgotten that the sun never sets here in the blessed Realm Eternal?"

At first Kael thought it was merely fatigue—he had, after all, been fighting all day long, every day for almost a week—but by the time the four of them started for Tranquillien through the long shadows of late afternoon—and they _were_ long shadows, Kael noticed even if the others didn't—he knew it was more than that. He had found it difficult to focus his energy for his spells when fighting just now; if not for timely intervention by the others, he would have been overwhelmed by the undead more than once. It was as if there was something _missing_ , although he couldn't say exactly what: it was like living near the shore, where the unceasing sound of the waves quickly becomes so familiar that it ceases to be heard until it is absent. Now he felt as though something that had always whispered in the background of his mind was silent.

Astalor met him on the road. "Have you tried opening a portal to Silvermoon?" he asked without preamble. "See if you can do it."

Smiling a little at Astalor's brusqueness, Kael began casting the portal spell… and then froze. He could produce nothing: it was as if he had opened his mouth to speak and been without sound, without voice. He was aghast.

"Pathaleon had a portal to Dalaran up for a while, but since then no one has been able to open anything," Solarian said.

"I think the invaders have somehow turned the runestones against us," Astalor said, "It's the only way to block the arcane."

It wasn't an entirely far-fetched theory—the runestone function was to restrict the use of magic by non-elven races within Quel'Thalas—but he didn't see how it could have been done. "Are all types of magic affected?" Kael asked, trying not to look at Astalor's forearms. "Has Malande tried?"

"She's fine," Astalor said, sounding more than a bit resentful. "I suppose we ought to be grateful the healers aren't affected." He pushed up his sleeves and folded his arms, flaunting his wounds. "And yes, blood magic seems to be blocked as well, which makes no sense to me when Light-based spells aren't. But then there shouldn't be any way to reverse the dampening spell on the runestones."

"Unless the runestones were already defective," Kael said. He looked at the setting sun, which had almost reached the horizon. Did the others truly not see it?

"We should go check them, I suppose," Astalor said.

"Do you truly not see—?" he started to ask; but then, as the setting sun began to slip out of sight, as agony lanced into him like a sword-thrust to the heart, comprehension bloomed and burned away the inexplicable lassitude that had fogged his thoughts since An'owyn.

Those who knew of the three hidden crystals knew that they were pieces of a Key, dating from the time of Dath'Remar. Precisely placed at intersections of ley-energies, they powered Ban'dinoriel, the Gatekeeper, the shield over Silvermoon and the island of Quel'Danas that made them unassailable. Removing the three crystals from their hiding places was said to unlock, in turn, "the mind, heart, and the soul" of the Gatekeeper. Most—the Farstriders and many of the magisters—believed this to be flowery, meaningless rhetoric, and that in practical terms dislodging the crystals simply meant that the magisters of Silvermoon would have to channel Ban'dinoriel. Which was true, but there was a deeper layer of meaning to the lore of the GateKeeper and its Key, a deeper meaning known only to select members of the Convocation. In truth, the mind, the heart, and the soul of the Gatekeeper referred to the three true treasures of Quel'Thalas: the circle of magisters, who for all their internecine maneuverings were as united in their dedication to their homeland as anyone; the King, who for thousands of years had been a personification of the highest, most noble virtues of their people; and the Sunwell, which, in addition to being the source of their magic and the bedrock upon which their society was built, was the spark at the core of each quel'dorei's being. As long as these three treasures remained, the quel'dorei would endure.

Kael now knew what was missing, what had left him enveloped in increasingly deafening silence. His connection to the Silvermoon magisters, his awareness of the music they made as they drew upon the energies dancing through the ley-lines, was gone… because _they_ were gone. Something, someone, had slain the magisters who could have maintained Ban'dinoriel. He did not know how it was that he knew this, but he knew it with a certainty that choked him with dread.

"The Eye of the mind," he whispered. "The Stone of the heart. We must…"

"My lord, what must we do?" Gathios asked.

"The sun!" someone gasped. "Look at the sun! What is happening to it?"

There was no longer any question whether the temple containing the An'daroth crystal was intact. "Ban'dinoriel," Kael said dully, "has fallen."

Everyone crowded around then, asking for portals so that they could go to Silvermoon's aid. When Astalor explained that they could not, that their magic was blocked, Lana'thel said she and the fastest runners would run to bring hawkstriders back from the groups guarding the Gate and the ruins of The Sanctuary. Everyone knew that that wouldn't be enough, of course, but they had to do _something._

As the sunlight began to retreat, as the warmth that they had taken for granted for so long began to ebb away, Kael'thas braced himself for the final blow.

It didn't take long. As the last sliver of the sun disappeared below the horizon, they were crushed by the shockwave that rolled across the land as their last, most precious treasure was taken from them.

And then, for the first time in six thousand years, night fell on the Realm Eternal.

.

.

_Next chapter: The aftermath._

_._

_._

 

_ 26 Dec 2014; rev 5 Jan 2017 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I've kept the MMO's geography in mind while writing this chapter, like many of Blizzard's official writers I use more of an "RPG" scale in mapping out travel times in Lordaeron and Quel'Thalas (e.g., WC3 had Arthas' trip from Andorhal to the border of Quel'Thalas take six days; I didn't go quite that far, but neither did I imagine it to take the 12 minutes it takes to run on foot or the 39 minutes it takes to role-play walk that distance in-game). 
> 
> The idea that the Nerubians tunneled from Stratholme into the place that they would remake into Deatholme has been my headcanon for a number of years. The idea of The Sanctuary (named The Haven in the initial draft, and changed due to DA:I) is an elaboration of the "Elven Village" destroyed in Chapter Three ("Into the Realm Eternal") of the Undead campaign in _Warcraft III: Reign of Chaos._
> 
> Finally, I tried, as much as possible, to accommodate the events and timelines set out in WC3 and _Blood of the Highborne,_ but I have occasionally deviated a bit from those sources for story purposes.


	9. The Halls of Theory (Vexallus). Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unaware of the full impact of the undead invasion, Kael and his followers make their way toward Silvermoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to my beta **Bryn** , who caught several errors of canon, tidied my commas, tamed wild tenses, and in general guided me away from doing stupid things. Special thanks also to **Raskol** and **shinyforce** , whose reviews kept the embers going.
> 
> The events of this chapter are meant to mesh, as much as possible, with the timelines and events made canonical by Mickey Neilson's novella _Blood of the Highborne._
> 
> OCs: Felesaria and Hanariel (mentioned but not appearing); everyone else is canon.

.

.

~ : |9| : ~

_Con… sume._

_._

_._

Is that the best you can do? What a shock it must be for you to discover that brute force does not assure victory.

I am curious to see what your next move will be.

Will you respond to the unforeseen and unwelcome by cowering in a corner, pretending it doesn't exist as you desperately try to dream a pleasant dream? If you're lucky, the darkness might devour you as you sleep.

Or perhaps you'll admit defeat and attempt to flee. Be careful, though—that path often takes you directly into the heart of the abyss, where not even death is an escape.

I myself admire those who carve out a third option, who sound their war cry to the last and embrace the pain and absurdity of existence—for they sometimes find that reality is more malleable than it seems.

.

.

.

Kael'thas knew he tended to think of the quel'dorei that followed him in the collective sense, as "his people," but regretfully, he simply hadn't had time or opportunity to get to know more than a dozen or so as unique individuals.

He learned quite a bit about all of them that night, observing their reactions in the moonless darkness of Tranquillien.

A reckless few set out for Silvermoon—after accusing Astalor and the other mages of withholding portals (though they dared not mention Kael in that group). Some clung in fear to friends, or announced their intention to find alcohol and drink until drunk; others emerged as natural leaders, helping Vanthryn herd everyone to the upper floor of Tranquillien's inn. A handful settled down like a drowsy litter of kittens in an alcove, but most were too stunned to sleep and instead talked quietly, wondering how the battle was going, fretting over their friends and colleagues in Silvermoon and whether the undead would attack Tranquillien in the night. A few sat apart, staring at the faintly-glowing gems of their affinity charms as if their loved ones could be summoned to them… if only they concentrated hard enough.

Kael heard Astalor say peevishly, "It's _ridiculous!_ They've all been living in Dalaran, but they act as if they've never experienced the sunless period called night before."

"Fixating on the darkness will allow them to feel comfort when the sun rises," Andorath replied.

"Don't patronize me!"

"Stop taking it out on us," Vorath said. "Check your stone: he's probably fine."

"This isn't about Rommath!" Astalor snapped back.

"Of course not," Vorath said. "Of course not."

Kael had always admired the depth of Astalor and Rommath's bond, but it only now occurred to him to what extent Astalor's recent ill temper and hostility was due to his knowledge of Rommath's infatuation. He appreciated that his two most trusted advisors had put the good of Quel'Thalas above their individual considerations, and had had chosen to stay with him despite the personal difficulties it might have caused them.

He made his way toward the ramp that led outside and found Vanthryn watching for undead while waiting for Lana'thel to return with hawkstriders; it took Kael a moment to find him, a slightly darker shadow standing under a tree a short distance down the road from the inn.

"Is anyone in there getting any sleep?" Vanthryn asked as Kael came to stand next to him.

"Most are too worried about those they know in the city or on the Isle."

After several minutes of silence had passed Vanthryn asked, "What do _you_ think is happening?"

"Something has overthrown a part of the world we knew," Kael said. "We will have to restore it."

"Where do we start?" Vanthryn asked.

"I will want to check Runestone Falithas—and possibly Shan'dor as well—on the way to Silvermoon."

"You think the invaders sabotaged the runestones?" Vanthryn nodded. "It makes sense. The runestones have been protecting us for so long they're taken for granted. Almost forgotten."

"At the very least," Kael said, "I suspect the runestones' wards were circumvented by the invaders. If so, we must know how, and address whatever weakness they may have found." He knew that his father wouldn't approve of his next action, but he would deal with Anasterian's disapproval later. "I want to ask the Kirin Tor for help in this."

"If you wish," Vanthryn said. "We'll send a rider as soon as Lana returns with the hawkstriders."

"It is taking a long time," Kael said. Lana'thel had taken only two scouts with her; had they run into more undead at the Gate, or more invaders at The Sanctuary?

"You're worried about her," Vanthryn said.

There was no point in denying it. Even though he told himself that Lana'thel could handle anything that was out in Eversong's now-shadowy woodland, he became more and more tense until he heard her returning.

She was on foot, and alone.

"Where are the others?" Vanthryn asked.

"I sent Hanariel and Felesaria to Quel'Lithien, to let them know what's happened. They should be able to spare a dragonhawk," she said, sagging against the tree, "because both our camps were empty. No people, no hawkstriders."

"Empty?" Vanthryn asked. "What do you mean, _empty?_ Where did they go? They didn't just disappear!"

"I know," Lana'thel said. "I know. There was activity at The Sanctuary, but we didn't think it was our people."

"Why not?" Kael asked. "Perhaps the squads moved there to help rebuild—"

"No," Lana'thel said. "I'm certain that whoever— _whatever_ —is working there isn't elven. Or human, or any other being we've seen before. We only got glimpses because it was dark and we didn't want to risk getting close, but…" She shuddered. "The _sounds_ they made." She exhaled loudly. "Felesaria said it looked as though they're putting down footings for walls and a gate at the mouth of the valley."

"That's—all right, get some sleep, if you can," Vanthryn said. "We'll check it out once the sun comes up."

.

The morning often seems as if it will never come to those oppressed by the night.

Kael, who had spent the night sitting under the tree in companionable silence with Vanthryn, watched his people begin to emerge from Tranquillien's inn at first light (or creep in pairs and trios from the woods). Some gaped at the sky as if they'd never seen such a color before; others seemed mesmerized by how the leaves in the treetops began to glow green with the first sunbeams; and a few stood hugging themselves, weeping with relief that they were still alive. "How strange," Capernian said wonderingly. "It seems like a new world."

Vanthryn said that they should divide into two groups so as to more quickly clear the undead from the remaining villages south of the river. Luthion countered that, as nearly half their number were unable to fight, the idea was a poor one. Bristling and glowering followed. Kael, who had no patience for their pettiness, told them to determine the wishes of the group as a whole and abide by that, then walked away, across the road and toward the arch that led to Tranquillien's small magisters' sanctum.

At the last moment, though, he decided not to go in—with his magical abilities so crippled, he hardly felt like a magister—and instead went around the building to stand at the edge of the hill. Below him was the Dying Path, no longer dying but dead, its verdure entirely drained of color, the soil underneath looking as if it had been charred by flames. He was tired of bad news; he wanted to turn back the clock and erase the events of the past few days, the past few years. _I want Quel'Thalas to remain forever untouched by the Scourge. I want Eldin to be alive, and Jaina to be happy. Whatever the price, even if it meant giving my own life in exchange, I would happily pay…_

There was a sound behind him: Malande and Selin.

"It's so ugly," Malande said, making a face. "I hope it won't be that way for long."

"It won't," Selin told her. "You'll see. Freywinn and Navarius are already talking about fixing it. Soon it will be as if it never happened."

Kael wasn't as optimistic, but he said nothing.

"What do you think?" Malande asked him. "Can we heal this horrible wound on our land?"

She looked so uncertain and lost that Kael knew he couldn't answer honestly; but then he had been taught from infancy that moments like this were what it meant to be a Sunstrider, that his own feelings might at times be a luxury he must set aside for the good of his people. "Yes," he told her, "I'm sure we will find a way."

A moment later the group in front of the inn began to disperse, all but a few hurrying north toward Silvermoon.

Astalor—followed by Lana'thel, Ennas, Sarannis, and three young elves carrying bows—crossed the road to Kael.

"The _majority"_ —Astalor gave this word a disdainful emphasis— "feel that, as the runestones obviously failed to stop the invaders, there is nothing to be gained by examining them. As they are not affected by whatever is affecting the arcane, they want to travel directly to Silvermoon, and not 'waste time' with anything along the way."

"I see." Kael did understand: there was certainly a part of him eager to get to Silvermoon and see how the city and the Isle had managed without Ban'dinoriel. But what if additional waves of invaders decided to march on Quel'Thalas while her borders were defenseless? It was a possibility: after all, the dozen elves missing from the southern camps hadn't evaporated into the air. He felt he could be most useful here, doing this small task… He looked away from Astalor, at the Dying Path. No, in truth, he was reluctant to go to Silvermoon, and the need to examine the runestones was little more than a scrabble for justification. Most of it was his reluctance to be subjected to yet more _Your place is here with your people, not with the humans_ censure from his father; alongside that was an irrational apprehension that perhaps Sylvanas and her Rangers and the Convocation had _not_ been enough to defend the city. He tried—and failed—to avoid thinking of Voren'thal's prophecy: in his mind's eye he saw that pall of white and red and black, bone and blood and death.

"Ennas and I will assist you," Astalor said. "Ennas tells me that Deryn has talked his ears raw more than once about druidic warding spells, so he might have picked up something useful."

"I will join the escort," Selin said. "You need protection."

"He's right," Lana'thel said. "There are almost certainly more undead north of us. I apologize for being blunt, my lord, but currently your magic is crippled. You're going to be vulnerable until it's restored to full power. We," she nodded at Sarannis and the archers, "will come along as well."

"I appreciate these offers," Kael said, "but there's no need. Certainly one lone elf can escape notice by the undead; I'll await the Kirin Tor near Shan'dor or Falithas, and join you as soon as I can. "

" _Three_ will escape notice," Astalor said. "The rest of you go on ahead."

Lana'thel almost smiled. "He needs more than just you and a priest, Astalor."

Astalor replied by pulling out a dagger.

Lana'thel shook her head. "Alright, then he'll need someone when you run out of blood."

.

In the end, despite his demurs, Kael was surrounded by nine companions: Astalor, the priests Malande and Ennas, Lana'thel, Sarannis, Selin, and three archers.

Runestone Shan'dor was across the river, directly north of Suncrown Village, and so it seemed reasonable, as they had with Eversong's other villages, to look in on Suncrown and assess whether or not any undead had occupied it.

What they found at Suncrown was worse than undead. Nightmare creatures, twice the size of a hawkstrider. A spider-like lower body of six chitinous legs and a barbed, obscenely quivering abdomen was fused to an upright torso. Segmented arms ended in lethal-looking claws; pendulous mandibles in constant motion hung from the grotesque crested head.

"At least eight," Lana'thel said. "There are likely to be more inside the buildings."

"Garithos called those grasshoppers?" Malande whispered. "Obviously he's never seen grasshoppers."

"He said something large and murderous had burrowed into the riverbanks in Lordaeron," Astalor said, his eyes narrowing. "They fit the description. They're probably what tunneled into The Sanctuary; Stratholme's not far from the river." He pushed his sleeve up and took out his dagger. "I'm going to kill them all."

"No." Kael grabbed Astalor's wrist before he could draw blood. "You can't charge in with your flame shield the way you did at Windrunner." There was some trivial fact struggling to surface, something about tunnels and spiders and death, but at the moment it eluded him.

Astalor pulled out of Kael's grasp. "Why not? You saw what they did to—"

"Yes," Kael said, "I saw. Which is why I will _not_ allow you to risk being torn apart. We must do this together."

Unlike mindless ghouls—who paid no attention when their comrades were picked off one by one—the spider-creatures seemed able to communicate, for when Kael and his group attacked one near the edge of the village it apparently called to the others, and an instant later they were swarmed.

Kael put up a shield-dome an instant too late to save one of the archers: her scream was cut short as she was sliced in half. Paralyzed in horrified disbelief as the spiders began to dismember her corpse, it was only Lana'thel's shout of, "Move!" that galvanized them into escaping across the river.

Expecting pursuit, they prepared to make their stand with their backs against Runestone Shan'dor, but the spider-creatures had not followed.

"I wonder if it's the water or the runestone that's stopping them?" Sarannis asked, watching the spiders carry off shreds of bloody flesh to various buildings.

"Does it matter?" Ennas asked. He was wringing out the hem of his robe.

"I think it does," Lana'thel said. "If it's not the runestone, we have to hope that they don't decide to teach themselves to swim."

"Why don't we leave clearing this village for later?" Selin said, looking to Kael for confirmation. "Until we can come back with a larger group from Silvermoon?"

"No," Sarannis said. "We can't. You saw these eggs—they're everywhere. What if they're about to hatch? In a few days we might be too late."

Kael suddenly suspected that the others might be imagining what he was now picturing—the remains of the archer being set out for imminent spider hatchlings to feast on.

"I agree," Astalor said. "We must kill them, now, and destroy all their eggs."

And so they began. Along with Malande and Ennas, Kael spent most of his energy shielding Selin, Sarannis, Lana'thel, and the two remaining archers—Astalor stood apart, sending out a steady barrage of fireballs from behind a flame shield—but maintaining the shields against the spiders' brutal, unrelenting attacks was so debilitating that Kael needed time to recover between each foray across the river. The others made a show of patience, but Kael wasn't fooled: he knew they were as disgusted with his weakness as he was. The only reason he didn't open a vein and attempt to power his shields with blood magic was his fear that he would wield blood magic as ineffectively as he was currently wielding arcane magic.

Then too, the creatures themselves forced Kael's people to be extra-cautious: not only did the spiders seem to have a method of silent communication, but enough intelligence to learn from each skirmish and change their tactics. During the third encounter fewer spiders charged the group of elves outright; most dropped down on them from the upper floors and roofs of nearby buildings. After the elves began forcing the fights to take place further from the buildings, the creatures ambushed from the trees, or tried to cut them off from retreating across the river.

Every battle was close: the elves were tiring, but the the number of spiders steadily decreased, and they even managed to incinerate the quivering clusters of gelatinous eggs in several buildings. Once it became too dark to fight, the group crossed the river and prepared to spend the night at the base of Runestone Shan'dor.

"This isn't what's disrupting my arcane energy," Astalor said, glaring at the runestone's erratically pulsing sigil as he tried once again to open a portal to Silvermoon. "If a suppression spell was centered here, the resistance would be much stronger than it was in Tranquillien, but it feels about the same. I think this stone's simply been deactivated."

"Alright," Kael said wearily. "We'll check the other runestones tomorrow, see if they've been deactivated as well. If the Kirin Tor can't help us restore them, we'll send Vandril or Deryan down here once we get to Silvermoon."

"The Kirin Tor?" Astalor asked. "Surely you don't expect any of the non-elves to rouse themselves on our behalf?"

"I am a senior member," Kael said. _And one of the Council of Six._ "The Kirin Tor will send someone."

He spent the night alternating brief naps with guard duty, but by morning felt even less rested than he had the evening before—although he did have a hazy half-memory that at some point, when he had awakened and started to relinquish his sleeping spot, Lana'thel had softly told him he could sleep a while longer, as it wasn't yet his time.

After a reconnaissance of Suncrown brought the welcome news that no new spider-creatures had joined their brethren overnight, they attacked the remaining invaders with renewed energy. By early afternoon they had killed the last of them, destroyed every cache of eggs (including a few that appeared to have been hastily buried), and crossed the river for the last time. When a final inspection of Runestone Shan'dor yielded no new insights, they set out for Runestone Falithas.

Although Shan'dor was the central of the five runestones spaced across Eversong along the north bank of the Elrandar, Runestone Falithas—to the west of the road that led to Silvermoon—was the closest to where the enemy had marched. Kael felt that if any of the runestones had been subverted, Falithas was the most likely candidate.

Under different circumstances the trek from Shan'dor to Falithas would have been a pleasant one; the sunlight was warm, the rustle as they trudged through the grass of the riverbank was soothing, and the murmur and splash of the small waterfalls they passed compensated somewhat for the lack of birdsong—although even here the trunks of many trees were marred by the greenish excrescences that were rampant in the southern forests.

The sun had slipped into late afternoon by the time they reached the Silvermoon road. Unsurprisingly, the nearby sanctum looked to have been hastily abandoned, but at least its well and provisions appeared untouched. As Sarannis and Lana'thel drew water to refill the canteens, Selin and Malande searched for anything edible that they could be certain pre-dated the taint of the plague; happily, there were several sealed containers of dried fruit and spiced meat. As the hungry group shared this impromptu feast—their first meal since the dwarven provisions they'd eaten in Tranquillien—Kael could almost pretend that events of the past two days had been a bad dream.

And then, as they set out once again for Runestone Falithas, they came in sight of the Dying Path. The brittle grey leaves crumbled into ash as they hurried across.

Unlike Shan'dor, Falithas' rune was entirely dimmed. Astalor tried once again to open a portal, and then shook his head. "Same as Shan'dor," he said. "This isn't the cause."

"We should examine one more," Kael said. "Belore'endal isn't much further, and we'll be able to check Goldenmist Village for invaders when we're there." Runestone Belore'endal was at the southern boundary of an ancient oak grove, on the high ground north of the waterfall that fed the Elrendar river into the sea. At the base of the waterfall, across the river, was Goldenmist, sister to Windrunner.

Borrowing Astalor's dagger, Kael incised the symbol of the arcane eye into the packed earth in front of the runestone. "I'll leave a message here for the Kirin Tor," he said, "so they'll know we were here."

"If they see it at all," Astalor said.

"I told you—" Kael started to say.

"I just mean that they'll probably teleport to directly to Silvermoon from Dalaran," Astalor said. "If they even get the message that you've requested them."

Lana'thel took offense. "Hanariel and Felesaria are absolutely dependable."

"Yes, and I'm sure they run very fast," Astalor said dismissively, "but what might they have encountered on their way to Quel'Lithien? And, assuming they arrived safely, how quickly will the Farstriders contact Dalaran—if they can even be convinced to do so?" He turned back to Kael. "Leave a mark here if you wish, my lord, but I think it best we not wait for assistance that may never arrive. After we check the last runestone and the village, I say we hasten to Silvermoon."

Kael could tell from the uneasy expressions of the others that they agreed but were reluctant to say so. He supposed that Astalor was right: they were not, strictly speaking, obligated to wait at a runestone. "Your point is well taken," he said. "Belore'endal and Goldenmist, and then we'll join the others."

They had covered about half the distance between Falithas and Belore'endal when Astalor stopped walking, reached into the collar of his robe, and pulled a small pendant with a glowing blue gem into view—a gem that looked like an affinity stone. When he noticed Kael looking at him he turned away.

Recalling Vorath's needling of Astalor at Tranquillien, Kael wondered if the stone's glow meant that Astalor's partner was nearby… and was it Rommath, or someone else?

Astalor had been scrutinizing the forest to the north, but now he turned suddenly and stared at the river. Someone in drab scout's leathers was swimming toward them while holding a rucksack high out of the water. As the swimmer splashed into the swallows and then stood, Astalor ran and embraced them briefly, then said, "Idiot. What are you doing out here?" His tone was gruff, but he smoothed a strand of dark wet hair back off the swimmer's forehead.

"I was looking for you," the swimmer replied.

It was Rommath. When he saw Kael he began rummaging in his rucksack. "Fortunately the alchemy lab in the Sanctum of the Moon was undamaged," he said as he pulled out two small vials filled with a pale lavender fluid. He handed one to Astalor and, avoiding eye contact, held the vial other out to Kael. "Arcane elixir. It will temporarily restore your magic. I'm… I'm relieved you're alive!"

"What has happened?" Astalor said. "How did you get here? Did you teleport? Did you know that the runestones have been deactivated? Is Ban'dinoriel holding? Has anyone been hurt?"

"I don't know how…" Rommath looked from one face to another, hesitating.

"Your eyes." Astalor took Rommath by the shoulders and, when Rommath tried to twist away, forced the other elf to face him. "What's happened to your eyes?"

Kael saw it too: Rommath's eyes were no longer the clear, pure blue of the sky; they were now darker, almost violet, and dulled as if overlaid by an oily haze.

"We don't know all of it," Rommath said, bowing his head to avoid Astalor's scrutiny. "Where to start… "

"At the beginning."

"He brought an endless army. Undead monstrosities... winged creatures of nightmare. Sylvanas… Grand Magister Belo'vir… hundreds… _thousands_ slain. The city's children drowned." He looked up, and Kael physically recoiled from the pain in his tainted eyes. "The Convocation was betrayed. Murdered. Ban'dinoriel was gone. Your father held Quel'Danas as long as he could. They all did."

"The Isle?" Kael asked faintly. "The Isle is taken?" Somehow he knew what Rommath was about to say, had known it the moment the agony had lanced his heart two days before, just before the sun had set for the first time.

"Yes." Rommath made a sound, a sharp intake of breath. "Silvermoon is a ruin. The King has fallen. The Sunwell has been defiled."

Someone cried out.

"Who?" Kael'thas felt a firestorm unfurling from the core of his being. "Who did this? Who brought the army? _Who killed my father?"_

"Those that survived say it was Arthas Menethil."

He would find Arthas if he had to burn down every hiding place in Azeroth. Arthas, who had spread the trail of blight across Quel'Thalas; Arthas, who had taken _everything,_ not just from Kael, but from his people as well—their King, their Sunwell, their forests, their lives _._ Overwhelmed with the need for vengeance, Kael shouted his rage at the darkening sky, and then, stretching up his arms, the flames rippled over the sleeves of his robe and became fiery feathers. Screaming his fury, with one savage wingbeat, he was aloft, breathing a cleansing flame on his forest. To save it from further degradation, he would set everything from the river to Goldenbough Pass ablaze, destroying what he could not save… until the sky itself was red. Through the shimmering fire, he saw spirals and wing-like furrows being carved into the barren ground below, intersecting overlapping circles that bloomed like ripples from a stone thrown into a pond—although instead of sinking, these stones rose up, became a thicket of pointed towers that for some reason reminded him of Dalaran. His wings gone, he resigned himself to death as he began to fall—and then, as the towers that rushed toward him inexplicably began to crumble, there was music, music such as he'd never heard before, crushingly sad and yet uplifting, regretful and yet full of hope, like a sliver of light in an oppressive darkness. He turned to look for the source and saw a ghostly figure with long white hair and a staff falling with him. Though the ghost's features shifted and blurred, Kael was certain that it was the spirit of his father. His heart leapt with sudden joy—a second chance to say everything he had never said!— but before he could speak, the ghost too began to burn. Kael reached for him, catching only a handful of ashes; as everything Kael fell into oblivion, he thought he heard the ghost say _You must persevere._

And then there was only darkness, darkness so complete that he could not tell if his eyes were open or not. He was no longer flying or falling; the ground under his back was cold. Something pressed on his chest, weighing him down with softness and warmth. One of his hands was clenched tight around something that felt like a pebble. He heard soft indistinct words, laughter, and he became aware that he was very, very thirsty.

It took all his energy to open his eyes. He saw a deep blue nothingness, but then he realized that he was seeing the twilight of an early evening sky. There was the faint glow off to one outside of his field of vision; sunset? As he moved his head to look, he saw Lana'thel, sleeping with her head and arms on his chest. He tried to say something to her, but his lips were so parched they were sealed shut. He managed to lift his arm and touch her shoulder.

Startled, she gasped and sat up, and then her face crumpled with tears. In an instant, Selin and Sarannis had crowded around her to see, and Ennas and one of the archers helped him sit up. Astalor, sitting some distance away on the other side of a small camp fire, stood up when he saw Kael: for once, he was smiling. There was no sign of Rommath.

After taking a long draught of water from Selin's canteen, Kael asked, "What… happened?"

They all tried to talk at once, but after a moment they quieted and let Lana'thel explain. "There was an explosion," she said. "Knocked us to the ground. When we recovered, we saw an enormous fire shield where you had been standing. There was no sign of you, and we couldn't tell whether or not you were behind the fire shield."

"It was blinding, even in the sunlight!" one of the archers interjected, but she was quickly shushed.

"After a moment there was a loud cry, like a hawk's," Lana'thel continued, "and then, a bird of flame rose from it." She held up her hands and said wonderingly, "It flew straight up, high into the air as if it didn't want to harm us with the gusts from its wings, and then it circled around the oak grove, breathing fire until everything was burning."

"I thought that was… a dream." Kael looked at the grove. Apparently the fire had burned out quickly, for only scorched earth and blackened tree trunks with leafless branches remained. Now and again there was the crackling sound of cooling embers.

Lana'thel shook her head. "No, it wasn't a dream."

"And then it dove back into the flame shield," Astalor said, "which dissipated to show us what we _thought_ was your lifeless body. The priests determined that you weren't dead, however, but in an unusually deep and unresponsive sleep." Astalor folded his arms and walked closer, "Since then, unable to save the grove and unable to help you, we've spent our time watching the one cool to cinders and the other hover at the edge of death."

"Rommath was right after all," Malande said to Astalor. "The gem must have kept him alive."

"You can't be certain of that," Astalor said. "He transformed into a phoenix. I'd think anyone would need time to recover from such a feat."

"What gem?" Kael asked.

"The one you've been holding since you collapsed," Sarannis said.

Kael finally opened his hand. What had felt like an ordinary pebble was actually a smooth oval gem of dark reddish-violet.

"Astalor thought it might be preventing you from awaking, but when he tried to pry it out of your hand, it burned him."

"Burned is too mild a word," Astalor said. He unfolded his arms and studied his fingertips. "It took my flesh off to the bone. Fortunately our healers are skilled."

"Rommath said that since the gem obviously wasn't harming _you,"_ Malande said, "that perhaps it was safeguarding your life force."

"It's a shame he couldn't stay long enough to have his theory validated." Astalor said this calmly, but to Kael any time Astalor spoke to him concerning Rommath, each word and expression now seemed eloquent with reproach. "We all agreed it was best for him to go back to Silvermoon and tell the populace that their new King was 'on his way while surveying the Scourge presence in Eversong.' "

 _Their new King._ The words made Kael feel physically ill. "Rommath's going to lie to them?"

"I wouldn't consider it a lie," Astalor said. "Granted, it won't have been the truth when he first got there to tell it, but it _is_ what you were doing last week before all of this happened, and it will be true again as soon as we begin to travel. We'll pass Fairbreeze and one of the sanctums, and could detour to check the Anchorage and the other sanctums as well, if you wish."

"What do you mean, 'when he first got there' ?" Kael wasn't sure he'd heard correctly: Astalor was talking as if this had all happened days instead of hours ago. "How long was I asleep?"

"Four days," Lana'thel said. She made a half-gesture, as if she were going to touch Kael's face, but instead quickly stood and moved away from him, toward the river.

"Why didn't you all return with Rommath?" Kael asked Astalor. He was angry; angry that they had lost four days, four days that they could have been helping the survivors in Silvermoon; angry that they hadn't left his useless carcass there, in the ashes of the grove he had destroyed; angry that he couldn't bring himself to feel grateful to them for watching over him… and under it all, an anger — no, a _hatred_ — of Arthas, as constant and pervasive as the liquid rock that flowed beneath the skin of the earth.

"And leave you here to be eaten by lynxes?" Astalor scoffed, and then his expression softened slightly. "He made us promise to stay and protect you."

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Two days days later, Kael'thas walked toward the ruins of Silvermoon to face what was left of his father's glorious kingdom.

Even before he saw the toppled walls, the broken gates—the Sun Gate was utterly destroyed, buried in rubble—it was obvious that something terrible had transpired. The velvety green lawns were trampled into mud, and studded with broken weapons and siege wagons. The air, foul with the smell of rotting flesh, choked them; the buzz and scrabble of carrion flies and rats was unceasing. Though the scene was softened, tinted blue and gray by the gloom of twilight, Kael found it horrifying; he could only imagine how much more harrowing it would be in full daylight.

Passing through the secondary gate, Kael and his contingent were met by Rommath, a handful of Farstriders led by Lor'themar Theron—a leather patch over Lor'themar's left eye only partially concealed a grievous, half-healed wound—and a hundred grim-faced elves whose hostility toward Kael and his group was palpable.

And why would they feel other than hostile, seeing Kael arrive more than a week after Arthas' assault? Even though he knew his words would be entirely inadequate, Kael knew he needed to say something. "I know this has been difficult," he began, but in an instant the crowd was shouting, at him, at each other, and there was the feel of a gathering explosion.

Lor'themar and the others protectively closed ranks around him, and Kael asked to see his father's body.

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"They said they were hungry," Malande said as they made their way to the inn where Anasterian had been laid out. "Perhaps we can ask for a share of the rations that Ironforge sends to Dalaran?"

"No," Kael said without thinking, and then, recalling the dream he'd had after his transformation into the phoenix, he asked Rommath, "Something happened to Dalaran, didn't it?"

"Yes," Rommath said, looking only momentarily surprised. "I myself only just received confirmation. About a week ago, Dalaran's defenses were breached by a terrifying stranger who took the Book of Medivh from the Arcane Vault."

"Gorefiend again?" Astalor asked.

"No one knows," Rommath said. "Two days ago, according to those who witnessed it from the far side of Lordamere Lake, just as the sun was setting the very buildings of Dalaran crumbled like sand, levelled in an instant as if flattened by a titanic hand. Most citizens are presumed dead."

"And the Kirin Tor?" Kael asked. "What of Antonidas?"

"Many of the Kirin Tor are unaccounted for," Rommath said. "The only confirmed deaths are those who were killed by the stranger." He paused. "Antonidas was among them."

And then they reached the inn, and left Kael alone to with his father say farewell.

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Misery and powerlessness. Kael'thas had once thought he understood what those words meant, but in the days following the destruction of Silvermoon he came to realize that he had never truly comprehended the oppressive reality of them.

There were lists of names, so many names, of the dead or missing. His people all, among them his nephews and nieces, old teachers and lovers, many he had admired, or called friends. He knew he should rage and grieve for them as well, but he was a husk, at the limits of his grief. That evening, watching as they prepared his father for the pyre—it was not their way to burn, but all those killed by undead must be burned—thinking that everything he held dear had been taken from him, he felt no more emotion than a stone does when the wind flows over it.

In the hours that followed, Kael received report after report: the percentage of the city that had been destroyed, the locations of entrenched pockets of undead, the estimates of when the city would run out of fresh water and untainted food, the movement of the Amani, slinking north along the coast like lynxes stalking wounded prey. All of this was distressing, of course, but what hit him hardest was the hostility of the Silvermoon citizenry. He had seen their love for his father and his brother, and had assumed that love would be extended to him as well.

Rommath explained that not only was Kael being condemned for his absence during the battle and the days following, but that he was also seen primarily as a magister—and most citizens felt that the magisters had failed them. Even Astalor's judicious leaking of the truth about Ban'dinoriel—that the magical shield had had failed only when those who could have raised and maintained it were slaughtered by Dar'Khan—did little to effect the growing anti-mage sentiment.

Guilt began to coil in Kael's belly, gnawing at him day and night, because the people's anger was justified. He had been absent during Silvermoon's darkest hours. He became convinced that the only way to soothe their anger, to allay his feelings of guilt, was to destroy the monster who had tried to annihilate them.

His councilors, it seemed, did not agree. Astalor—whose eyes had now turned as dark as Rommath's—insisted that the Sunwell and the population of Quel'Thalas should take precedence over all else. "We can't afford revenge."

"So you would let Arthas go unpunished?" Kael asked, finally feeling a return of the rage he had experienced at Runestone Belore'endal. Flames began to ripple over his hands, charring the table, and although he dimly heard Rommath and Astalor shouting, it was a memory of the sublime music he had heard in his dream, of the ghostly figure saying _You must persevere,_ that enabled him to calm himself enough for the flames to fade.

"Of course not," Rommath said quietly, "but you have asked for our counsel. Now is not the time to hunt him down, not when our people continue to be poisoned by the foul energies he left behind. Not when the few magisters and rangers we have left struggle to fend off the encroaching Amani."

Kael knew that Rommath was right. He wished it were not so, but he knew that it would be a mistake to deplete Silvermoon's remaining defenders so soon by taking them to pursue Arthas. "Thank you, my friends," Kael said, "for helping me see our path clearly. This I vow: Once we have quenched the Sunwell, provided for our people, and re-secured our borders, we will pay Arthas back tenfold for the suffering he has caused, even if we must harry him from the highest peaks to the depths of the sea."

"Let him think he has broken us," Astalor added, "that we are too frightened and feeble to retaliate. He'll become complacent and careless—and it is then we will strike him down."

And so, two days later, Kael once again destroyed what he could not save, when he, Astalor, and Rommath recovered the broken crystals that had sustained Ban'dinoriel's shield over Silvermoon and Quel'Danas, and rechanneled the last of the energy from the crystals into the shadow-corrupted Sunwell, causing a magical overload and detonation. The resulting arcane tempest scoured all undead from the holy island, and the few trolls who had witnessed the destruction from their offshore destroyers crept fearfully back to Zul'Aman.

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As soon as it was clear that the Farstriders were sufficient to protect Silvermoon, Kael and Pathaleon travelled to meet with Earthmender Govrum, who helped them negotiate a contract that would allow Silvermoon to buy food directly from Ironforge. It was Kael's first victory, and he cherished it.

He returned to Silvermoon to find that the work of rebuilding was in full swing. The eastern half of the city — which before the war had been the seat of commerce and administration — had more than enough buildings capable of housing the survivors, and would be even more defensible once they had completed a wall along the western perimeter just outside the pestilent soil of the Dead Scar.

More determined than ever determined to earn the favor of his people — and embarrassed by the luxury of the residence he found waiting for him in Sunfury Spire — Kael spent as much time as he could in the rebuilding efforts. He also led forays into the Eversong woodlands to hunt down Scourge, an activity he found especially satisfying. Although it would be some time before the undead were entirely eradicated, progress was being made; it was becoming possible to imagine a day when Quel'Thalas would be completely reclaimed.

His activities did not go unnoticed. As the weeks passed, his public appearances stopped causing outpourings of anger and frustration, and as he gradually gained the people's respect for him both as a Sunstrider and a mage, their approval became more tangible.

Still, not all went smoothly. "It's ridiculous!" Astalor had fumed upon hearing that the Farstriders were being hailed as the saviors of Silvermoon. "Were the mages and spellbreakers who battled alongside them invisible? Do they not see us now? They'd stop swooning soon enough if the rangers were actually in charge!"

To Kael's surprise, Rommath then suggested giving Lor'themar Theron, the Farstrider who had taken Sylvanas' place Ranger-General, full responsibility for the day-to-day operation of the city and carrying out Kael's directives as he saw fit. "Acknowledging the role the Farstriders played by elevating him to a position of visible authority will garner immediate goodwill; it'll be seen as a gracious gesture. And then," Rommath had continued calmly—with a ruthless practicality he had rarely displayed before—"if the people become dissatisfied with Lor'themar, you will be doubly heralded when you remove him from office." But the surprises didn't end there: when Lor'themar was offered the position, he warily agreed to accept it on one condition: that Rommath be named Grand Magister and have equal responsibility. "Without a high-profile mage presence actively contributing to the recovery of Silvermoon," he said, "the people will continue to feel abandoned." At that moment Kael realized that, rustic or not, Lor'themar was no fool: his subtle rebuke demonstrated that he grasped the situation every bit as well as they did.

"I have one final question," Lor'themar said. "Why now?"

"Because," Kael said, "I will want someone I trust as Regent of Silvermoon when it is time for me to go after Arthas."

 

 

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_Next chapter: Alliances_

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_ first posted 19 February 2015; rev 21 Oct 2017 _


	10. The Halls of Theory (Vexallus), Part V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoping that the Alliance of Lordaeron will feel obligated to assist in bringing Arthas to justice, Kael subjects himself and his troops to the bigotry of Grand Marshal Garithos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **OCs:** Skorgrim, Garithos' three lieutenants (who I named Saxon, Swift, and Tierny), and the named Ambermill residents such as Amelia and William. The remaining 25 or so characters are from canon.

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~ : |10| : ~

_Un… leash…_

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Ah, so now you've discovered the secret: oftentimes one must accept pain and hardship for a greater gain.

So many of our arcanists died learning how to harvest the volatile essences from beings such as Vexallus, but their deaths—unlike so many deaths in Quel'Thalas—were not wasted; such essences power our Arcane Guardians. I'm sure you've met a few on your way in.

Impressive, weren't they? Invented by my dear friend Astalor.

Oh yes, even after all he's recently done to undermine me, I still call him friend. How could I not? First he changed his name to show his commitment to our cause; then he freely spilled his own blood to aid us. Not only that, he endured the pain of proximity to me because he believed that it would help his beloved Rommath. Admirable, if pointless; but then Astalor has always seen the world through the lens of blood magic, in which one voluntarily exchanges pain for power.

That was the lesson he taught me, you see, and that is why I still call him friend: our destiny is shaped, not by the paths forced upon us, but by the paths we choose to take.

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One day, meeting with Rommath, Astalor, Pathaleon, and Vanthryn in the upper room of the inn which had served as his command center since his return to Silvermoon, Kael'thas listened to Freywinn and Navarius present their findings on the return of unplagued wildlife to the forests north of the river. When the two had finished their report he asked, "Any other matters to discuss?"

"One thing more," Rommath said, then turned to Astalor. "It's time."

Astalor nodded, and left the room; when he returned, he was carrying a long narrow box. Setting the box carefully on the table, he stepped back.

Kael opened it.

Inside was Felo'melorn, the ancient runeblade that his father had wielded until Frostmourne had cleaved it in two, just before Arthas struck him down. Kael had assumed that the pieces had been buried with his father.

"One day you will mend the blade, as you are mending our people," Rommath said with absolute conviction.

"Yes," Kael said. "Whatever it takes, we will persevere."

.

It was time to go after Arthas: unfortunately, there was no information about where the villain and his army had fled. Astalor and several others believed that the erstwhile prince had been given shelter by former allies; Rommath believed that he would at some point return to Northrend, the site of his unfathomable transformation from human to monster. Kael resorted to pressing his scryers daily for news of Arthas, but they reported nothing useful. Voren'thal claimed at some point that Arthas was — or would be — near the site of a great battle in northern Kalimdor, but, as was often the case, the information was too vague and contradictory to be useful. Kael was particularly scornful of a subsequent report that Jaina Proudmoore would be at this battle as well — allying with an orc chieftain and the leaders of the kaldorei to defeat a demonic invasion, no less! — but Voren'thal assured him that it was a clear, true vision, not to be doubted. Clearly fanciful nonsense, but secretly Kael was pleased at Voren'thal's additional assertions that Jaina would survive the battle, and that Arthas would not be present at the battle. Hearing this gave Kael a modicum of much-needed joy, for he had secretly feared that Arthas might return to Jaina, and that Jaina would take him in. Kael even allowed himself the thought that, some day, after he had taken revenge against Arthas, he would travel across the sea to visit her.

Either way it was obvious that, even if they had known exactly where Arthas was, there were not sufficient elven forces to mount a successful attack, as all but the most seriously injured sin'dorei were actively engaged in reclaiming and defending Silvermoon. Kael knew he needed to bolster his campaign against Arthas with non-elven troops, but the only way to do that was to maintain and exploit Quel'Thalas' ties to the Alliance of Lordaeron—which meant taking himself and as many troops as could be spared and offering them to Grand Marshal Garithos. Kael was not eager to to make himself subject to Garithos again, but the humans were the strongest of Kael's potential allies. Diplomatic relations with the dwarves of Ironforge were too new for Silvermoon to have any leverage, and the gnomes, while clever inventors, weren't known for their army.

Garithos had moved his command base from Dalaran to Silverpine, and Silverpine provided Kael with additional lessons in misery and powerlessness. A dreary, dangerous place, Silverpine was crowded with menacing stands of trees and numerous small caves that looked as though they would provide far too many hiding places for the undead. Days were gray with rain and clammy mists; night brought insidious winds that stabbed and sliced at exposed skin, and the sun, which had first abandoned them the day Arthas had poisoned the Sunwell, now appeared only briefly, flashing on the horizon twice a day like an estranged friend hurrying past.

The inhospitable weather and terrain, however, would turn out to be trivial compared to the 'welcome' Kael and his troops received when they reported to the Alliance command post. Prior to Arthas' destruction of Silvermoon, Kael and his forces, operating out of Dalaran, had more or less been treated as welcome, given the provisions and supplies they needed, and allowed some leeway on where they fought and when; now, however, Garithos' officers treated Kael like a pariah, told him he was to set up his own camp, acquire his own supplies and food, and deploy his troops in strict accordance with their daily assignment. Kael, keeping in mind that his people now needed the humans more than the humans needed them—an ironic reversal from pre-war conditions—and understanding somewhat that the Alliance's resources were stretched thin after such a protracted war with the Scourge, suppressed his anger at this rough treatment. He reminded himself that whatever he endured now would enable him to destroy Arthas later.

Leaving the command post, he'd gone in search of the blacksmith. When he finally located the smithy—a large roofed structure built into the side of a hill—he saw two apprentices working under the stern eye of an imposingly-muscled gray-bearded dwarf.

"Skorgrim the Red, at yer service," the dwarf said as Kael approached. He glanced at the three small spheres of swirling green fire that hovered over Kael's head, but was clearly more curious about the long bundle of faded Thalassian brocade that Kael carried.

"I have a broken sword. Do you have a moment to discuss its repair?"

"Only just, I've got some ingots in." Skorgrim pointed to a space on a workbench. "Put 'er down there."

Kael unwrapped the bundle, revealing the sundered pieces of Felo'melorn.

"Oh now, will ya look at that," the dwarf said reverently. He leaned in for a closer look. "What a _beauty._ Bin smithin' for sixty years, an' never seen the like." He frowned slightly as he carefully lifted the hilt-half of the sword to peer at the break. "This is no stress fracture, it's a clean rive. What in seven blazes did _that?"_

"Can it be repaired?" Kael said, trying not to picture Frostmourne slicing through Felo'melorn just before it sliced into his father.

The dwarf sighed and shook his head. "Truthfully? Some idiots might tell you they can solder it, but that's a pile. The join'd be a weak point, like bone that's been broken; it'd likely snap in the same spot as soon as you clanged it fighting."

"What about forge-welding it?" Kael asked.

The dwarf looked surprised. "So ye know a bit about smithing?"

"A bit," Kael said. "I've done minor repairs on enchanted weapons—edging, replacing grips, replating."

The dwarf was less impressed now. "Eh, all that's more like jewelsmithing." He folded his arms. "It's true, a forge weld is much much stronger, but it's for plain slabs o' untempered metal that can take the upset and the scarfin' and the repeated heatin'. Do any a' that to a blade like this and you'll ruin it for sure."

"There's no other option?"

"Well, with some old swords, family heirlooms and such, I'd say to make a cast, then melt 'er down and reforge from scratch, but I wouldn't do that here—not only because your sword looks to be two or three different metals layered together, but because you'd lose all the elvenscript. Unless that's something you kin put back?"

"No," Kael said. What had been inscribed on the sword had been a lie: _Whosoever wields the fire / shall never fall._

"Shame that is. It's a lost art." The dwarf sighed. "Sadly, there's just no reliable way to make a sword like this battle-worthy again."

"I don't need it battle-worthy," Kael said. "I only want it to be—" There was a sudden lump of grief in his throat; he swallowed it down. "I just want it to be whole again."

"Well... if that's all you want, might as well try soldering. A mix of truesteel and truesilver might do the trick. If it doesn't take, you'll have to go with a forge weld and try to get it done in a single heat, as hot as you kin make it without meltin'. And minimal hammerin'." The dwarf twisted a hank of his beard and said thoughtfully, "Might be able to protect the script with a clay and flux paste…"

"I trust your judgement," Kael said. "Whatever you think will work best."

"Oh, you were wanting me to do the work?" The dwarf held up his hands and shook his head. "No, no, I can't."

"This sword is Felo'melorn," Kael said, unable to comprehend the dwarf's refusal. "It belonged to my father Anasterian, last High King of Quel'Thalas, who was murdered by Arthas Menethil and his undead army. The cloth I had wrapped around the sword is a remnant of the brocade used to make my mother's funeral shroud." He clenched his teeth; when he was able to go on, he said, "It's all I have left of them. Name your price: I'll empty Silvermoon's treasury."

The dwarf looked appalled. "I heard stories about King Anasterian from my great-gran," he said apologetically. "I'd like to help you, yer highness, really I would, but all requests for my services have to be approved by the High Commander."

"General Garithos, you mean."

"That's right. Grand Marshal Garithos or one a' his seconds."

Kael knew that such approval was unlikely. "If Garithos can't—" he almost said 'won't'— "spare you to do the work, would you allow me to make use of your forge and tools? Only when they're idle, of course; I'm afraid my camp isn't as yet provisioned."

"Oh, absolutely," the dwarf said. "It'd be an honor to work on such a blade. You kin tell 'em I said so; might carry some weight."

"I'm not sure I understand you," Kael said carefully. "Do you mean that although I have brought forces to fight under the Alliance banner, and I and my people will likely die defending human lands, I must get the permission of the Grand Marshal to work in an Alliance smithy?"

Skorgrim sighed and wouldn't meet Kael's eyes. "Afraid so."

"I see." Kael re-wrapped the sword. "Any advice on what I might do to earn Garithos' favor?" He knew he sounded bitter; he didn't care.

"Aside from bein' a human instead of an elf?" Skorgrim said with a pained half-grin. "He blames elves for the death of his father and the family vassals in the last war, yeh see, even though everyone knows it was orcs that attacked Blackwood. He probably think that if he had been there instead of off fighting on the Quel'Thalas border he'd've come off the hero, single-handedly defeatin' the invaders and savin' his town, which is nonsense, but people believe what they want to believe. Not the type to question himself, he isn't." Skorgrim pursed his lips, as if regretting he'd been so frank. "So he's got that against yer kind, for a start. Not much ye kin do about it."

"True."

"He's not too fond of magic-users, either. Might want to hide those bits of green sparkle keepin' ye company."

Kael reached inside the collar of his robe and pulled out the small bag holding the gem created by his phoenix -avatar. As he put the crystal from the core of each verdant sphere into the bag, he tried not to think about how demeaning it was for him to go so far to make himself acceptable to Garithos—but then again, what choice did he have? The humans held the power in this situation: to pretend otherwise was foolish. "I appreciate the advice," he told Skorgrim.

"Good luck!" the dwarf said with forced cheer.

Kael trudged back to the command tent, but when he asked the helmeted guard at the entrance if he could speak to Garithos, he was told that the Grand Marshal was currently too busy to see him. When Kael said that he'd wait, he was informed he'd have to put his name on the list of petitioners.

Kael swallowed his anger at this new insult and asked for the list. The guards, apparently unprepared for this response, hastily produced a piece of blank parchment. Kael signed his name using Common script rather than Thalassian; he was then kept waiting outside the tent long enough for a small crowd to gather. As humiliating as this treatment was, Kael was determined to keep his goal in mind. When he was at last motioned inside, he had to suppress a laugh. Behind the command table—which was on a high dais—Garithos sat in an enormous, throne-like chair of dark wood. The Grand Marshal had exchanged the utilitarian armor he'd worn in the past for a gleaming, highly ornamented golden set. _One more reason for him to resent me_ , Kael thought. _True royalty is a matter of bloodline and deportment, not furniture and costume._

"My apologies for importuning you, Grand Marshal," Kael said as deferentially as he was able once Garithos acknowledged his presence by making eye contact, "but I have come to ask if you would allow me to use the camp smithy for an hour or so to repair—my sword." It seemed prudent not to mention dead fathers. "I have spoken to Mastersmith Skorgrim, and he is agreeable; all that is required is your permission."

Garithos stared at Kael for long moments, his mouth twisted into a faint smirk, then began to lazily pick between his teeth with a fingernail. "No, I don't want any weird metals around our honest iron and steel," he said. "Who knows what effect it would have on them?"

Kael had anticipated this refusal; the hour he had just spent standing in the Silverpine rain had given him time to come up with a counter-proposal. "Might we attempt to salvage the blacksmith shop in Dalaran, then?" Kael asked. "The forge and anvil there likely are still serviceable, and as its a considerable distance from here, you needn't worry about any adverse—"

"No," Garithos said, flicking away whatever piece of food he had retrieved. "I can't spare anyone."

"My apologies for not being clear," Kael said, trying to remain patient. "Your soldiers need not trouble themselves with such a laborious and menial task; my people will do the work of clearing the rubble."

"The ruins are crawling with undead," said stern-looking man standing to Garithos' right. "It's far too dangerous."

"We are more than willing to undertake the task of putting the former citizens of Dalaran to rest," Kael said, then added, "It will allow us to make a useful contribution to your reconstruction effort on those days when we are not needed elsewhere."

"I had a feeling you'd find some excuse for going back there," Garithos said. "You think I'm going to let you traipse around unsupervised and destroy evidence?" He chuckled. "I don't think so."

"Evidence?" Kael asked. "Evidence of what?"

"I've always found it awfully suspicious," Garithos said, "that you and all 'your people' left before it was destroyed." He turned to address the stern-looking man. "What was it that flattened the city, Saxon?"

"Magic, sir," Saxon said dutifully.

"Odd, isn't it, that so many non-human mages left right before the disaster?" Garithos said, as if pondering. "And wasn't there some artifact after the Second War that concentrated magic?"

"The Eye of Dalaran," Saxon supplied. "Allegedly stolen right after the city was rebuilt."

Rage began to unfurl as Kael realized what Garithos was insinuating. "Dalaran was my home for hundreds of years," Kael said tightly. "I and 'my people' would have defended it with our lives— _have_ defended, it, as we have defended Lordaeron—but the day it was destroyed, we were battling through the undead on our way to Silvermoon, where we had to burn the corpses of tens of thousands of our citizens slain by Arthas and his army. No doubt in retaliation for the help we've given the Alliance." Kael regretted this last the instant he said it.

The faintest of smiles twitched Garithos' lips, as if he was pleased that he had caused Kael to speak of something so painful. "It's always been a _human_ city," he said, "so what's left of it is therefore off-limits to non-humans." He then picked up a piece of paper and pretended to read it, signalling that the audience was over. "Of course, if you don't like our rules, you're free to go back to Quel'Thalas."

Not trusting himself to speak further without doing irreparable harm, Kael brushed past Garithos' soldiers and out of the tent, where he ran into Skorgrim, the gray-bearded dwarf blacksmith. "I asked," Kael said tightly. "He said no."

"I heard," the dwarf muttered. "Come wi' me."

"Why?" Kael had had his fill of bowing and scraping to non-elves for the day; there was no civility left in him.

Skorgrim walked away without answering; curious, Kael followed.

After a meandering route, Skorgrim stopped at last next to a tarp-covered wagon on the outskirts of the encampment, not far from his smithy. "Quite a few abandoned farmsteads down south," he said abruptly. "Some might have anvils and forges."

 _Anvils and forges._ "Driven out of their homes by the undead?"

"Some ran from the plague," Skorgrim said. "Folks at Ambermill and Pyrewood were too stubborn, dug in instead. Been holding on as best they can, but might appreciate some help, even if it comes from _non-humans._ " Skorgrim's contempt for the term—which by definition included dwarves—was clear.

"How fortuitous," Kael said. "I was just thinking that it might be useful to establish a base camp in that area."

"Not that anyone's orderin' ye to, of course," Skorgrim said.

"Of course," Kael said. "Only the Grand Marshal can give me orders."

Skorgrim's lips twitched as if he were suppressing a smile. "I thought as much. Good thing we ran into each other; since yer leavin' I have an excuse to show off me supply wagon." He lifted up the canvas. "I'd like ta' direct yer attention to the sealed bucket o' blackrock flux and the two boxes o' charcoal in the corner."

"Yes, I can see them," Kael said. "Very high quality materials, are they?"

"Damn right they are. Quality blackchar, not that garbage that's half ash and dirt." Skorgrim nodded emphatically, then murmured as if saying nothing of consequence, "Most o' the camp sits down for afternoon mess in a bit. No one comes down this way for a good quarter-hour."

"Is that so?" Kael replied just as quietly. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but you risk being reprimanded."

Skorgrim gave a snort that was surprisingly eloquent. "I'll tell you something, Prince Kael'thas; I've done some thinking since you made yer request this morning, and when I heard what was happenin' during yer meeting I decided that, from where I'm pissin', if I've paid for a bucket of flux with _my_ money I can do with it as I please. If I want to toss it in the river, or rub it on me belly, or even _give_ it to someone, well, that's _my_ choice and no one else's. Anyone gets a stick up their arse about that an' tries to reprimand me'll be hikin' down to Ironforge for their repairs."

Kael nodded, his faith in non-elves somewhat restored. He started to pull his gold-pouch from his pocket, but Skorgrim said sternly, "Put that away. Fix Anasterian's sword. That'll be payment enough." As he made an unnecessary adjustment to the tarp covering his wagon, he added, "If ye really have an itch to throw money at someone, my cousins in the Explorers' Guild can supply tents. They'll be used, and likely they'll need mending, but they'll be cheap."

And so, as it turned out, not everything about existence in Silverpine was entirely unpleasant.

As the days passed and Kael and his forces fought their way south along the road that ran through Silverpine, trying to find a suitable place to make their base camp, they discovered that Skorgrim had spoken truly: there were indeed many abandoned houses and farms in the area west and southwest of Lordamere Lake. Unfortunately, most were too small, too dilapidated, or too exposed to be suitable.

At last Theraldis located one that seemed ideal. West of the main road, almost directly southwest of Dalaran and roughly midway between Ambermill and Pyrewood, the farm had a large fallow field not far from the road. Both the two-story house to the north of the field and the barn and outbuildings to the west were nestled in rocky hills that provided excellent vantage for sentries, while a stand of massive trees served as a windbreak against the clammy breeze coming from the sea. Behind the thickets of overgrown weeds, the buildings, though weathered, appeared to be well-constructed. The mossy tiles of each roof were tight, and the fireplaces were well-bricked.

Although the house had almost enough floor space to accommodate all of them for sleeping, the general feeling was that they should clear the field and pitch tents outside in order to use the ground floor of the house as an infirmary and refectory. While some set upon the field with scythe and fireball, others cleaned wasp nests from the chimneys. Malande, who had ventured upstairs, said that both bedrooms were habitable and had asked Kael to choose which he'd like so that the bedding could be aired out. Kael, thinking of the Grand Marshal and his throne, responded that the beds should be reserved for the ill. "I'll sleep in a tent, like everyone else."

It had been an exhausting first day, but Kael, contemplating the sight just after sunset as the campfire defied the dusk-shrouded woods and burnished the drab canvas of the tents, felt exceptionally moved at what they had accomplished: not only was the camp a tangible first step in the recovery of the sin'dorei, it was also a symbolic refutation of Garithos' scorn.

Someone touched him on the shoulder. Kael looked up to see an unfamiliar elder elf and his assistant, the latter carrying a large bulky bundle of fabric tied with cord.

"Prince Kael'thas," the elder began, "I am Tae'thelan Bloodwatcher, magister-historian. I have a come to beg both forgiveness and permission."

"Why do you need forgiveness?"

"Earlier today, I led a team into the western half of our beloved Silvermoon, thinking to recover items of significant cultural value before the undead could despoil them," he said. "When I found these," he indicated the bundle, "in the ruins of the royal vault, I was seized with inspiration, and conscripted Belloc to help me bring them to you so that I might beg your forgiveness for taking them without your permission."

"And they are…?"

"Ancestor's Day lawn tapestries," Belloc said.

_Ancestor's Day._

"I thought they might be put to good use here," Tae'thelan said. "A touch of home, as it were. Might I give a small speech and distribute them to our troops?"

Kael looked at Lana'thel, who gave a small shrug. "If you wish," Kael said.

As Tae'thelan and Belloc moved to the center of the camp, Lana'thel folded her arms and chuckled. "Tae'thelan has either impeccable timing or luck, arriving just after we finished the work of setting up the camp."

"Possibly both," Kael replied as Tae'thelan clapped his hands for attention.

"My brothers and sisters," Tae'thelan said, "like these bedraggled tents that are in such dire need of repair—"

"Shall we find him a needle?" Lana'thel muttered.

"—the outside world may see us as battered and defeated. But like this very camp, these tents can become a tangible reminder of how, nourished by our history and traditions, we will regain the strength we need to reclaim our former glory!" He motioned to Belloc to untie the bundle.

There was a murmuring as the elves realized that the tapestries were the very ones that had once been spread on the lawns of Sunstrider Isle. As they gathered around to examine them, Keleseth commented that the heavy brocade would also do a much better job of keeping out the chill air of the Silverpine nights than pride had been doing.

As Kael watched his people eagerly selecting tapestries for their tents—"It's not just cloth," Tae'thelan was saying, "it's a piece of our _heritage!"_ —he decided that there was no need to chastise Bloodwatcher for scavenging in the royal vaults. His intentions had been pure, even if his actions were questionable. And after all, perhaps he was right; perhaps the tapestries would help their people, the brave, beautiful survivors, to rise above their grief, guilt, and despair, even if just for a moment, and to forget that for each of the living there were nine dead.

.

The next day's dawn seemed to be a harbinger of a brighter future: no clouds smothered the rising sun, and the early morning ground fog dissipated quickly in a golden glow. Kael and his people gathered in the center of the camp to discuss what they would do that day. Lana'thel and Tenris were headed north to check mission assignments at Garithos' command post. Freywinn asked for volunteers to help him assess the degree of contamination in the area's plants, animals, and water; Pathaleon said he would be inventorying the supplies on hand and making lists of what was needed—Eldin had been right, there really were people who genuinely enjoyed managing logistical details—and Andorath said he would lead a squad out to do general reconnaissance of the area.

By the time Kael had spoken to each of the departing squads, he noticed that Selin and Atherann were building a lean-to—with materials they had salvaged from the farm's decrepit granary—to shelter his clandestine smithy from the rain and clammy sea breezes. Touched by this gesture, Kael decided that he would use the time until Lana'thel returned with their orders from Garithos to begin repairs on Felo'melorn.

After tying his hair back, Kael set out tongs, hammer, and a pair of heavy leather gloves. Exchanging his robe for a blacksmithing apron, he scooped a bucket of rain water from the leaf-strewn horse trough and set it near the forge for quenching and fire control. Nodding with satisfaction—the forge, recovered from the charred remains of an abandoned farm further east, was badly rusted in one corner but otherwise serviceable—Kael pried open one of the boxes that they had taken from Skorgrim; atop the charcoal was a folded paper containing a dozen or so small dark blue pellets. _Toss one on the fire,_ the paper said. _Spits when coals are ready. Sparks when metal is ready._

Smiling faintly at the dwarf's thoughtfulness, Kael began to load the forge with charcoal. Ironic that not long ago he would have, without effort, produced a magical fire at least as hot as what was now going to take him nearly an hour of careful work to create in the forge. Not that he _couldn't_ conjure fire if he wanted to: no, he was choosing _not_ to. It was his way of taking back control of the condition that Arthas had forced upon him.

In the days immediately following the Sunwell's defilement, Kael had found using magic more and more painful, as if his blood was slowly being flooded with shards of glass. Though no one had ever mentioned it, Kael was certain that everyone had suffered to some degree: if it was true that he had been affected more than most, well, that was the privilege and burden he bore as a Sunstrider and leader of his people. In addition to giving him a poignant moment of empathy for his late brother—Kael didn't want fussy old uncles hovering over him either—it had underscored how very much his people had taken effortless magic for granted. Performing the channeling ritual with Rommath and Astalor to burn away the corrupted waters of the Sunwell, using the three mooncrystals that had once sustained Ban'dinoriel—which would have been a taxing spell even in brighter days—had been almost unbearably agonizing in his darkened state; fortunately, the ritual had been successful, and even though Kael had been incapacitated for days afterward, it had marked the end of his pain.

Unfortunately, it had soon become clear that an empty Sunwell was only marginally better than a polluted one. Once the ley-lines threading through the land became the primary source of magical power, all but minor spells required an unusual amount of concentration, and magic simply became too difficult for most. Kael, who had noticed immediately that the mooncrystals used in the ritual—their natural radiance tinted by their past exposure to Scourge magic—retained faint traces of the arcane despite their near-destruction. He was reminded of the research he had done in Dalaran on the storage and focusing of magical energy, and thought that if he could recharge the crystals, restore them to even a fraction of their former power, they would serve him well on the day when he would at last face Arthas. The thought of Arthas being consumed by a pillar of fire proved to be an excellent motivator: from that day onward Kael stopped using non-essential magic, daily pouring whatever power he had into the crystals. If he wanted to travel, he rode; when he was hungry or thirsty, he either sought out non-conjured food or did without; when he fought, if feasible he used sword and staff instead of fireball… and now, when he needed to heat metal to malleability, instead of using a fire spell, he lit a pile of charcoal with kindling and worked the bellows to provide a steady flow of air into the heart of the nascent fire.

Crude, yet satisfying.

Within minutes, his skin was prickling from the heat; by the quarter-hour mark, the muscles in his arms and legs had begun to ache from the unfamiliar effort of powering a bellows. None of this mattered; he was fulfilling the silent vow he had made at Anasterian's funeral pyre: to hunt down and punish Arthas Menethil for his crimes, and to repair both the runeblade Felo'melorn and their people. When the blue pellet that Skorgrim had given him began to crackle and hiss, Kael embedded the broken ends of the sword deep in the yellow-orange coals, expecting at any moment to see the bright blue sparks that would indicate that the metal was hot enough to be malleable.

As the hours went by, Kael continued to work the bellows, stopping only to add more charcoal to the edges of the forge, but no blue sparks appeared. Thinking perhaps the pellet was defective, Kael pulled one of the halves of the sword from the coals. The metal, far from being the bright red-orange he expected, had barely changed color at all.

As he worked the broken ends of the sword back into the coals, he saw that Lana'thel had returned. The early afternoon light glinted off the sword she held loosely at her side: Quel'Delar, which had once belonged to her friend Thalorien. Kael had heard that she had carved through a dozen undead to reach where his body lay trampled into the mud and ash of the southern shore of Quel'Danas, and that she had defended his corpse until she had collapsed, senseless with grief and exhaustion. She had had rarely been seen without the sword since. Kael knew she must blame him when she looked at Quel'Delar and saw a reminder of who and what had been lost. _If only I had made different choices,_ Kael's nightly self-censure ran, _if only I interpreted the signs correctly, I could have saved them all._ If he had gone to Silvermoon's aid immediately, he might have stopped Dar'Khan and saved the Convocation and Ban'dinoriel. If he had fought alongside his father, Anasterian would not have fallen, and neither would the Sunwell… Kael was aware that such thoughts accomplished nothing beyond refreshing his guilt, but he couldn't stop himself any more than Lana'thel could put Quel'Delar aside.

She had noticed him working, and was headed toward him. There was a time, Kael reflected, when he wouldn't have allowed anyone but Eldin to see him this way, sweating and grimy and half-undressed, but such considerations no longer mattered. It bothered him more that she was going to witness his inability to repair Felo'melorn, but then again she had already witnessed a number of his failures.

"How goes the repair?" she asked. She was eyeing him with a mix of amusement and admiration.

"Not as well as I'd hoped," he said. "I haven't been able to heat the metal enough to make it malleable."

"Is there any way to make the coals burn hotter?" Lana'thel asked.

"Short of filling the forge with lava? No." He worked the bellows with one hand while he tossed in the last of the charcoal. "I've accomplished nothing but to burn up two boxes of very good fuel."

"Could I try that?" she asked, indicating the bellows. "It looks like fun."

"If you wish," Kael said as he stepped aside. "It's less enjoyable after the first hour."

"There have to be books on runeblade repair somewhere," Lana'thel said, at first working the bellows so vigorously that a cascade of sparks leapt up.

Kael used an iron poker to redistribute the coals. "There might have been some in Dalaran's libraries; many of the works there were one of a kind."

"All lost now," she said sadly.

"So it seems."

"Is it true that Garithos accused us of destroying the city?" she asked, now moving the bellows more slowly.

"He did. He also insinuated that Felo'melorn would somehow pollute any weapons present in the Alliance smithy."

She looked outraged. "How did you keep from incinerating him?"

"I kept in mind that attacking him would not help our cause."

"True," Lana'thel said. "Still… if you _could_ have given him the response he deserved, what would you have said?"

Kael pulled the two halves of the sword from the coals and stared at them as if considering his answer, but in truth he'd already spent more time than he wanted to admit to imagining what he would have liked to have said to the Grand Marshal. _"This 'weird elf metal' is the runeblade Felo'melorn,_ I would have told him. _Forged a hundred human lifetimes ago, it was wielded by my father, and his father before him, and by every High Elf king since Dath'Remar himself. Felo'melorn has slain countless thousands of demons, trolls, orcs, and undead: if your honest steel and iron could talk, it would bow and tremble before this regal blade…"_ Kael set the pieces of the broken sword carefully on the anvil.

"I'd give anything to hear you say that to him," she said fervently, stepping back from the bellows at last. "I think we all would."

Kael felt somewhat embarrassed, as the speech had sounded far nobler in this thoughts than when spoken aloud. Still, if Lana'thel liked it… "You were gone longer than I expected you'd be," he said through the clouds of steam as he began to douse water on the coals. "Did Garithos keep you waiting?"

"Of course, and all for nothing. We aren't even on the duty roster yet."

"I'm sorry that they wasted your time." He set the water bucket down and, feeling slightly improper, took off his blacksmith apron.

"What is that around your neck?" Lana'thel asked. "You've never struck me as the amulet type."

Kael touched the small leather bag that had been hidden under the bib of the apron. "The gem," he said. "From… when I transformed." He hung the apron on a nail. "I'll make a proper setting for it when I have time."

"Wouldn't it be better to put it away somewhere for safekeeping?"

"No," he said. "I'd rather keep it near me, as a reminder." He pulled on his robe. "Freywinn says the area is being called 'The Scorched Grove' now. Treants and angry spirits attack anyone who comes near."

"But you didn't mean to destroy the forest," she said. "Did you?"

"No, but my intentions don't matter," he said. "Only my actions and their consequences."

She moved around the forge and stood close to him. "Be careful with this," she said, putting her hand on his chest, over the now-hidden amulet. "I wouldn't want it to be lost. The way… hers was."

"I'll be careful," he said. He knew she was referring to Sylvanas' necklace, which had been found on the road that led from Fairbreeze to Silvermoon. Kael was aware that most of his people had chosen to believe that Sylvanas had lost it days before the invasion; it was a willful delusion he understood, for it was too painful to imagine the chain breaking and the necklace falling to the ground at the moment that Arthas struck her down and ripped out her soul.

"Was the Spire still unoccupied?" he asked. Although she had not talked about it, he had suspected that Lana'thel and Sarannis had returned the necklace to Windrunner Spire before they left Quel'Thalas.

"A few of Kel'Thuzad's cultists were skulking," she said. She rested her hand on Quel'Delar's hilt. "We hid it on the top floor near one of the sleeping alcoves."

"Perhaps some day her spirit will return to the Spire and find peace," Kael said softly.

"I hope for that as well," Lana'thel said. "To wander the world in such a form, trapped between death and life… what a horrible fate."

Lana'thel looked away from him, and he saw that her eyes were brimming with tears. He was so taken aback by the depth of her emotion that he could think of no words to comfort her, and so he stood there silently until she spared him further discomfiture by walking out toward where Selin, Tenris, Astalor, and a half-dozen others sat on benches near the central campfire's cookpot. After a moment, he followed her.

"Where are we fighting tomorrow?" Sandoval asked.

Lana'thel made a soft irritated sound as she ladled herself a bowl of stew and took a piece of stale dwarven ale-bread. "They said they had nothing for us to do, which is absurd," she said. "I know they've had casualties; clearly we could supplement their forces." She sat and ate for a few moments before asking him, "As we don't yet have an official mission to kill undead, should we continue to kill them unofficially?"

"Of course," Kael said, taking the empty spot beside her. "It is what needs to be done."

"Will you be my battle-partner?" she asked, leaning against his shoulder in a most enjoyable fashion.

"I look forward to slaughtering with you," he replied, taking her gesture to mean that she had already forgiven him. The thought made him almost happy for the first time in months, and he wished he could talk to Eldin about his friendship with her.

"How are we going to prove our worth to the Alliance if they never send us on any missions?" Selin asked angrily.

"We can't force them to use us," Theraldis said. "Unfortunately, we'll have to wait until they realize they need us."

"I certainly hope that happens before they're desperate. Or we are."

Tenris said, "Lieutenant Swift told Lana to come back after sunset, saying that he was sure 'something would open up' by then."

"Open up?" Keleseth asked. "Surely he didn't mean—?"

"He meant his breeches," Lana'thel said, poking listlessly at her stew before setting it aside. "Apparently some of Garithos' men find elves less objectionable if they have breasts."

Kael was outraged. "That's—how _dare_ he say such a thing?" He stood and began to pace. "Allies or not, we must make it clear that we will not tolerate such an appalling behavior, even if it means we sit in our tents for twenty years!"

"I'll take Lana'thel's place in checking the postings with you from now on," Selin said to Tenris.

"No need," Tenris told him. "Swift and the others are barking dogs. They know quite well they would taste Quel'Delar if they ever tried to bite." He grinned at Lana'thel. "I almost wish they'd try: it would be a joy to watch you swat them down."

Late afternoon began to shade into sunset. Andorath returned to camp and said that their search of the caves in the area had yielded no signs of undead; Freywinn reported that he had found several diseased animals—both predator and prey species—but that the area's vegetation still seemed resistant. Sandoval, who had led a squad south, described scouting a fortified village whose inhabitants had shot at them, and beyond it a towering wall.

Fatigued by the day's blacksmithing efforts, Kael was considering turning in early when a group of a two dozen or so humans emerged from the woods to the east of the farm, then began to hurry across the road toward the camp.

As Kael and the others rose from their seats around the campfire, a bearded man—who along with a red-haired woman seemed to be leading the group of humans—spoke. "Thank the Light! We heard that there was a company of Alliance soldiers in the area." He, like several others in his group, wore a ragged Kirin Tor initiate's tunic.

"You're from Dalaran?" Kael asked.

"Yes," the man said. "Most of us are—well, _were._ It was only by accident that we escaped the disaster; Amelia and I had taken a group to Ambermill to investigate some curious phenomena—"

"William," the woman said, "the matter at hand?"

"Oh, right. Sorry, Amelia!" He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "We've come to ask for your help. Our settlement at Ambermill has been invaded by undead!"

"They've always come singly before, which we can handle," Amelia said. In contrast to William, she was calm, with a firm, authoritative voice. "This time, however, there were six or seven of them—"

"No, at least a dozen," William interjected. "I'm not ashamed to admit that we panicked," he said.

"What's important is that you got everyone out safely," Atherann said.

"I didn't see the Tayuses," William said to Amelia.

"Barricaded in their house, most likely," Amelia grumbled. "Stubborn grumpy fools."

"We can get them out," Vanthryn offered, glancing at the sliver of sunset that remained.

"Thank you," William said with a sigh. "Amelia and I are up for fighting, but the rest are pretty rattled. Is there a corner where they could hunker down until we come back? The barn will do."

"There is no room in the barn," Andorath said. "Would the house be an adequate substitute?"

"Oh… of course." The human seemed quite nonplussed, as if he hadn't expected kindness from elves.

"Bill and I are going back for Krieg and Sonia Tayus," Amelia announced. "The rest of you get inside; it'll be safe here." As the crowd filed into the house Amelia said briskly, "I'd advise against torches and glow-lights; no reason to warn them we're coming."

As they hurried toward the darkening woods, Kael mused that, as unpleasant as it was fighting undead during the day, fighting them at dusk, when they'd be visible only as faint white smears in the darkness, promised to be five times as onerous. Fortunately, the nine undead at Ambermill were risen ghouls rather than the deadly abominations, spiders, and skeletal soldiers of Arthas' army; defeating them was quickly accomplished. Perhaps it was simply the urgency of their task, but Kael felt his magic flowing more easily than it had since the invasion.

"You feel it too, don't you?" Astalor said to him as he incinerated the ghoul remains. "There's something here, something powerful. Raw magical energy."

"An offshoot of the ley-lines that lead into Dalaran," Kael replied quietly. Not surprising, then, that the Dalaran survivors had settled here.

William had run to a cottage and begun to pound on the door. "Sonia! Krieg! It's William!" he shouted. "The undead are gone!"

The door opened a crack.

"We've gone to the Alliance base camp for the night," William said to the hidden couple. "In case the undead come back."

"If the danger's passed, we don't see any reason to leave our home to stay with strangers!" came the whispered reply.

"Strangers?" Amelia snapped back. "You'd be with all of us!"

The door shut; the sound of a heavy bolt followed.

"Suit yourself," she said angrily as William put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her away.

As they headed back to Kael's encampment, Andorath said, "I wonder where those undead came from? We didn't see any when we scouted the area."

"I think they came from Dalaran," a young man said. "Some say there are hundreds in the ruins there."

"Did so many perish?" Kael asked. It was a sorrowful thought, that once again he'd have to give a second death to so many he might have known in life. "If that is true, your settlement is likely to be overrun again." If Dalaran's fatalities had risen as undead, it suggested that Kel'Thuzad—and Arthas—had been responsible for that as well.

"If the undead come again, we'll cross the river and ask Pyrewood to take us in for a bit," Amelia said. "Baron Silverlaine is said to be a good man."

"I hope you're right," Lana'thel said. She was looking back over her shoulder, in the direction of Ambermill.

Kael turned to see that the forest behind them was filled with what looked like white mist; dozens of white blurs were following them.

"We couldn't have missed that many!" Sandoval protested.

"It must be a second wave of attackers," Vanthryn said.

"That family—" Lana'thel began.

"If that many shamblies went through Ambermill," Amelia said, scowling as she began to send arcane blasts at the undead, "they surely made enough noise that the Tayusess knew to keep their door locked.' Her words were heartless, but her expression was anguished. "I'm sure they're fine. It's a sturdy cottage with a sturdy door."

They reached the edge of the woods and began to hurry across the wide verge toward the road that separated them from the farm. "William," Kael asked, "could you and Amelia go ahead and help our base camp prepare for evacuation? We'll hold back the undead."

"Of course," William said. "We'll load only what is essential. Uncontaminated foodstuffs and water, ammunition... "

"Let's just go, Will!" Amelia said, pulling at his arm and starting to run. "They know we know what to do!"

Kael and the others spread themselves in a line along the road and waited. He thought he could hear—or perhaps it was only his imagination—faint shouts as the alarm was given at their camp.

"We haven't seen that before," Valanar said, pointing off to their left at a faint column of silvery light, barely visible on the road to the north.

Kael glanced at the woods. "We have other concerns," he said as the ghouls became visible between the trees. "We can investigate when we've dispatched these undead."

This second wave of undead seemed more aggressive than those they had encountered at Ambermill, oddly relentless in their march toward the base camp at the farm. More than once the elves were forced to retreat toward the road to avoid being surrounded, but at last they were victorious.

Kael and the others glanced northward toward the column of light as they hurried across the road. Was the column closer now, or was that simply a trick of the moonlight? No matter.

Kael was pleased to see that the farm's two wagons had been loaded with blankets, spare tents, and foodstuffs. Astalor—once again using blood magic—was casting protective wards on each. Most of the rest of the camp was busy taking down their tents and preparing to march along with the refugees.

"Your people gave us half your food," Amelia told Kael. "We can't take that much."

"You can't show up at Pyrewood empty-handed," Andorath said calmly. "Even if the Baron is as generous as you say, his resources may be strained after so many months of fighting the Scourge."

"But what will you—"

"We'll take enough from Ambermill to replace what we've given you," Atherann assured her.

As last minute supplies were being loaded onto the wagons, Freywinn said, "Is that… a sabercat mount _?"_

Kael turned to see what he was talking about.

The column of light had reached the northeastern perimeter of the farm, and had left the road to move across the field toward them. Two shapes moved within the light: one walking, the other riding a huge white and black striped tiger.

" _Kaldorei…"_ Freywinn sounded entirely awestruck.

Tae'thalen scowled faintly. "Kaldorei? What would they be doing here?" Tae'thalen knew, as did Kael, that it was disagreement with the druidic kaldorei over the use of arcane magic after the Sundering that had caused Kael's ancestor Dath'Remar and the Highborne survivors he led to be banished from their homeland more than seven thousand years ago. Ever since, the elves of Eastern Kingdom and the elves in Kalimdor had viewed each other with distrust and contempt; as the millennia passed, the kaldorei and quel'dorei had diverged in culture as well as appearance, and this, combined with the reclusiveness of kaldorei society, meant that few high elves had ever been face to face with their distant cousins from across the sea. Now and again Kael had received letters in Dalaran from night elves who claimed to be mages and who expressed interest in joining the Kirin Tor, but whenever he had responded to such letters the communication had gone ominously silent.

"We'll soon find out," Kael said.

As the rider came nearer, Kael saw that she was stunningly beautiful, with violet skin, long blue-green hair, and glittering, diaphanous robes. A silvery crescent diadem marked her as a priestess of the moon, but in all his reading about kaldorei religion Kal had never come across anything that would explain why the priestess seemed to be wrapped in a glowing mist that rose into the night like smoke. The priestess' companion, apparently also female, wore imposing armor and a heavy green cloak, and carried a lethal-looking circular weapon. A crested helm hid her hair and most of her face.

Formidable, both of them.

" _Ishnu-alah,_ night elves," Kael said, hoping that his Darnassian was properly accented. "I am Prince Kael'thas. I am surprised to see your kind here, for this land offers only death and shadow." He wondered, as soon as he had said this, if they would take his words as a veiled threat; he certainly hoped they would not.

" _Ishnu-dal-dieb,_ Kael'thas," the armored warrior replied politely. "I am Maiev Shadowsong, and this is Tyrande Whisperwind. We are hunting a powerful demon that recently arrived in this land."

Kael glanced at the others. Every one of them looked as if they were feeling the same mixture of astonishment and anxiety that Kael was feeling. He doubted that any of them had ever met a kaldorei before either; to have these two appear so inexplicably, and to be treating the encounter so casually, as if the two races interacted every day, was in and of itself astounding.

"A demon? We haven't seen any demons," Kael said, "but something seems to be driving the undead out of Dalaran. We are in the midst of helping the inhabitants of Ambermill relocate to the nearby village of Pyrewood."

"Then we shall lend you our aid, young Kael," Tyrande said. Her voice was softer and more melodious than Maiev's, but nevertheless had the authoritative confidence of someone who not only was accustomed to command, but who expected her commands to be obeyed without question.

"Wait! We have no time for this!" Maiev said to Tyrande.

Ignoring this outburst, Tyrande continued, "Perhaps once your people are safe, you will help us hunt the demon we seek?"

"It would be an honor," Kael replied. He was beginning to understand Freywinn's starstruck expression.

"We'd better move quickly," said Vanthryn. Across the road, a third wave of at least a hundred undead poured from the forest like grain spilling through a sieve.

Lana'thel turned to face the enemy. "Go ahead," she said. "The rest of us will make a stand here."

"No," Kael said. "We must stay together. It will take all of us to protect the wagons and ensure these people get to Pyrewood."

Atherann put his hand on Lana'thel's shoulder. "It's not heroic," he told her, "but it's more prudent."

'We'll outrun them," Vorath said.

"They're not pursuing us," Andorath said, settling a stack of tents against the side of the wagon to shield the refugees. "We were simply in their path before."

"Where are your draft animals?" Tyrande asked. "The horses to pull the wagons?"

Astalor pushed up his sleeves. "Unlike four-legged beasts, my arms never tire." He reopened one of the incisions he'd made during the previous battle, then channeled a spell onto the wagons. After a moment they creaked, levitated slightly, then began to move.

"Blood magic," Maiev said. The utter contempt in her voice was chilling. Tyrande was silent, but her radiance dimmed so suddenly that Kael took it as disapproval.

"Let's move out!" Vanthryn said.

.

Even with Astalor's magic moving the wagons, it was slow going in the darkness, travelling as they were over uneven, unfamiliar terrain. Still, it seemed Andorath had been right; the undead were not pursuing.

"We are wasting time here, Tyrande," Maiev said, loud enough to be overheard. "We should be out looking for Illidan!"

"These people need our help, Maiev," Tyrande replied. "Their brethren aided us against the Legion, and so we must honor that debt now."

"They don't need our help! There are hundreds of thousands of Highborne here!"

"You have been misinformed," Kael said. "Sadly, we have few warriors left, thanks to the Scourge. They devoured Quel'Thalas, obliterating many once-proud families. The few of us that remain call ourselves 'blood elves' in homage to our murdered people."

"I grieve for your people, Kael," Tyrande said. "But you must not allow rage and despair to poison your heart. You may yet lead your people to a brighter future."

 _Easily said,_ Kael thought. _Not so easily done._

"Finally!" said Amelia as intermittent flashes of firelight began to appear high in the darkness. "Those are the Pyrewood watchtowers. Once we get across the river, we'll be at their main gate."

The bridge across the river was hidden by a simple illusion; once it was dispelled, they began to move the wagons across.

"Why was the bridge concealed?" Tyrande asked.

"The undead seem reluctant to cross flowing water," Valanar said.

"Ah."

"We've escorted you here, as you asked," Maiev said. "Surely now—"

But she never finished that sentence, for it was at that moment that undead began to emerge from the shadows along their side of the riverbank. Within moments, a hundred or more were converging on the newly-visible bridge.

"Hurry the wagons across to the gates of Pyrewood!" Tyrande said. "I will stay behind and prevent the undead from crossing!"

"That's very noble of you, priestess," Maiev said, "but you're no match for so many!""

"The goddess is my shield, warden," Tyrande said with absolute conviction. "Elune will grant me the strength!"

Maiev made a disgusted sound and raced across the bridge.

What happened next was a display of power on a scale Kael had not often seen. Tyrande stood in the center of the bridge, and as the swarm of undead drew near her, she held up her arms. A circle of moonlight rippled out from her, and the undead illuminated by it stopped as if mesmerized. An instant later, a shower of blazing white lights rained down upon them, obliterating every ghoul in sight.

Unfortunately, the spell had a destructive effect on the bridge as well, for after a moment there was the hideous sound of splintering wood. Before Kael could even shout a warning the bridge shattered, tossing Tyrande into the swirling waters.

"Merciful goddess!" she cried, and then she sank under the inky surface of the water.

"We must hurry to save her!" Kael said, rushing to the riverbank. There was no sign of the priestess. "That current will take her straight into the heart of the undead lands!"

Maiev gripped his arm. "No, Kael. Tyrande was a soldier; she knew the risks she took. We have a greater mission to accomplish now, and the time grows short." She pulled him back from the riverbank. "Your people are now safe, as you requested. Uphold your end of the bargain; help me find the demon I seek."

"Your priestess was just lost! This is how you grieve for her?"

"She was _Elune's_ priestess, not mine," Maiev said coldly, but then she bowed her head. "I am sorry, Prince Kael'thas. I should not expect you to understand the demands of our goddess."

Kael didn't know if there truly was such a difference between the kaldorei and sin'dorei response to death, or if Maiev was simply trying to manipulate him. "I will send some of my people to search for her; the rest of us will help you finish your hunt."

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The moon had risen by the time the Ambermill refugees were safely inside Pyrewood's gates. Kael joined Vanthryn, Lana'thel, and Maiev in studying a map of the area.

"You're sure your demon is here in Silverpine Forest?" Lana'thel asked.

"Yes."

"Is it aware it's being pursued?"

"Oh yes," Maiev said avidly. "Illidan knows he's hunted. Tell me where you think he could hide."

"We've already scouted the caves and most of the abandoned farmhouses in the area," Vanthryn said.

Maiev shook her head. "Too small. He has a cadre of naga with him. What of Dalaran?"

"The ruins don't offer much cover," Vanthryn said. He tapped the island cluster in the center of Lordamere Lake. "But this… it would be an ideal hiding place for your demon and his naga. Fenris Keep is deserted, well-fortified, and difficult to approach without being seen."

"Leave that to me," Maiev said.

"We'll check Dalaran as well," Kael said. "If nothing else, I want to know what agitated the undead there."

Maiev pointed to a point northeast of Dalaran, near the shore of Lordamere Lake. "I will establish a camp here," she said. "Report to me there."

"Why?"

"Illidan is powerful and extremely treacherous," she warned. "If you should discover his hiding place before I do and attack him without my guidance, you surely will be defeated. Put your forces under my command, however, and victory is assured."

Kael, bristling somewhat at her tone, said, "It is not my intention to rob you of glory, Maiev. I will lead a small group into Dalaran to search for him; whether we find him or not, I will send word to your base. In the meantime, the remainder of my people will remain here in Pyrewood, gathering their strength for the coming battle."

It was obvious that Maiev was not pleased with this answer, but she said only, "Go then, and return to me."

Despite protests that he had already spilled enough of his blood, Astalor opened a portal to the Dalaran outskirts. While a small squad made their way southeast from the portal toward Ambermill to rescue the Tayusess, Kael, Vanthryn, Selin, and Lana'thel spread out along the perimeter of the ruins, planning to work their way inward from a cardinal point.

Kael had been in Dalaran during the Second War, when the orcs had attacked and destroyed a portion of the city's walls and some of the buildings, but this was ten times worse. It was utter destruction: not a single building was intact. Eerily silent except for the carrion-flies, the only movement was the occasional flicker of a rat racing over broken stonework. There were no signs of undead. The wind, fortunately, was mostly quiescent; when it did stir it brought the nauseating stench of rotting flesh.

It was slow, dangerous egress by moonlight, and the hours crept by. The moon was almost directly overhead when Kael recognized a cushion from the couch that had been in his sitting area, and realized that he was looking at what remained of his workshop. Maiev's demon forgotten—after all, it was unlikely that the demon was still in Dalaran—Kael searched through the rubble as best he could, hoping to find at least one or two volumes from his library.

He was startled to find his face wet. How long he had been crying?

He was about to go, accepting that he would find nothing useful, when something crunched under his boot. He bent to look. Now covered with dust, it was the strange piece of metal he had found in the weapon vault on his first day in Dalaran, so many hundreds of years ago. He had never identified what it was made of, never been able to melt or even scratch it, and so it had been relegated to the collection of oddments on the shelf under his worktable. "How strange," Kael murmured as the amulet against his chest grew warm. He put the metal fragment in his pocket.

A moment later, he heard a clattering sound, and Lana'thel appeared. "There's a large black-winged horned demon and four snake-like creatures performing a ritual near the remains of the central square," she said breathlessly. "I think we might have found Maiev's prey."

.

When they returned to Pyrewood they found Freywinn, entirely dejected because he'd found no trace of Tyrande. When he asked if he could accompany Kael and Lana'thel to the night elf camp to give the news, Kael didn't have the heart to refuse him.

As they approached the camp they saw Maiev talking to a strange being. He might have been taken for a kaldorei were it not for the stag-like antlers growing from his skull. He turned to them as they approached; his eyes glowed gold.

"An archdruid," Freywinn whispered. "I never thought I'd ever see… Thank you."

"Shan'do, this is Prince Kael'thas," Maiev told the druid, "the ally I spoke of."

"Greetings, great druid," Kael said with a small bow. "We have confirmed that the demon and his minions are indeed in the ruins of Dalaran. They are using a gem-like artifact to perform a ritual."

The archdruid nodded. "The spirits of the land have shown me this as well."

"The gem must be the Eye of Sargeras!" Maiev said. "What are they trying to accomplish by releasing such terrible power?"

"They are striking at the roof of the world," the archdruid said grimly. "Splitting it open. Inflicting excruciating pain upon the earth."

"But why? What do they hope to accomplish?"

"It doesn't matter," the archdruid said. "They won't live long enough to finish their spell. Illidan must be stopped once and for all."

.

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_Next chapter: New alliances and old friends_

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_ first post 20 April 2015; rev 27 October 2016_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big big thank you to my beta **Bryn,** who, in addition to being tirelessly meticulous about the small stuff, is also able to keep the big picture in mind and see rough spots and pacing potholes I've missed. (I touched the chapter last, though, so any errors are mine.)
> 
> I also want to thank **Stinger** for the use of Skorgrim the dwarven blacksmith, **Denis Frechette** for his instructive blacksmithing videos, and **Will Kalif** of [stormthecastle.com](stormthecastle.com) for answering some last-minute questions about stoking a forge.
> 
> Check out [the fanart that the talented RinaCane did of Kael'thas the Blacksmith.](http://rinacane.deviantart.com/art/Kael-thas-reforging-Felo-melorn-511918220)
> 
> Finally, my apologies again for the slow pace! Subscribe to be notified when the next chapter arrives.


	11. The Observation Grounds (Delrissa), Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the adventurers defeat Vexallus and move on to Priestess Delrissa and her four associates, Kael recalls the kaldorei visitors, and how his interactions with the stranded naga provoked harsh responses from Garithos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OCs: As in the previous chapter, Amelia, William, and Garithos' lieutenants Saxon, Swift, and Tierney. (The lines given to Tierny during the "sticks and harsh language" conversation are from an unnamed NPC in WC3.) Voladranus is the name I invented for an imaginary high elf master metalsmith.

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~ : |11| : ~

_Annihilate them!_

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Well, I must say I am impressed. You had the intelligence and coordination to take down Vexallus.

How fortunate for you that you work so well together.

My brother told me years ago that my success would depend on who I kept around me. I thought at the time he simply meant that one should choose one's advisors well, but I have come to understand his words to also mean that the way your followers see you shapes your destiny. If they look upon you with contempt, you may become a monster; if they look upon you with pity, you may begin to feel helpless… but if they look upon you with adoration and fear, you may start to think of yourself as an exalted being. Divine, almost a god.

Kil'jaeden himself was shaped by those he chose to be the instruments of his vengeance — and look at my dear Delrissa. She has gathered around herself the hunted, the hated, those who claim no allegiance, and those who can call no world home; beings ethereal or twisted or broken. They worshipped her as a goddess of death and life, and thus she became one.

I am no different… but why would I be?

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As Kael and Lana'thel led Malfurion and Maiev toward Illidan's location in Dalaran, Maiev explained that the snakelike creatures with Illidan were called naga, and that they were Highborne who had been trapped at the bottom of the Great Sea and cursed ten millennia ago when the Well of Eternity had nearly destroyed the world.

"Cursed Highborne?" Kael's own people were descended from kaldorei Highborne who had been banished from Kalimdor after the Great Sundering. Kael had always thought it a cruel punishment, but compared to being trapped in watery darkness for millennia…

"Illidan bought their loyalty by freeing them," Maiev said. "He offered them the opportunity to wreak vengeance on those who dwell on land." She paused and then added grimly, "Every death they have caused is on his head, and on the head of the one who freed him."

"That's enough," Malfurion warned.

Maiev pressed her lips together and hurried on ahead.

"I don't understand how anyone can contain so much hatred," Lana'thel said softly.

"I can," Kael said, "if she feels about this Illidan the way I feel about Arthas."

.

Kael hadn't sensed Illidan's location when he'd first searched Dalaran, but now he could feel the spell the demon and his naga were casting pulling at him like a whirlpool through the ruins. It wasn't long before he could see a sickly greenish glow coming from a sunken courtyard.

"I feel their spell ripping through the roof of the world," Malfurion said. "We must end this!" He lifted his staff, then slammed the end of it down.

Like the ripple from a pebble dropped into a pond, a wave lifted the surface of the broken stone paving, flowing over and down the stairs leading to the courtyard. An instant later, there was a flash of green light and a cry of frustration. "No! The spell is not done! _It is not done!"_

"It is over, brother," Malfurion said, looking down into the courtyard from the top of the stairs. "Your vile schemes end here."

Kael couldn't believe what he'd just heard. No it couldn't be right. Had the archdruid referred to the demon as his brother? He raced up the stairs, but Maiev was even faster.

"Illidan Stormrage," she said, her voice thick with rage, "for recklessly endangering countless lives and threatening the very balance of the world, I hereby sentence you to death!"

The courtyard was nearly empty. Whatever artifact had been there, whatever ritual it had been used for, there was no trace of it other than the dead naga symmetrically arranged around the central mosaic — and in the center, down on one knee, the demon.

Kael had never seen such a creature. Demonic he certainly was: huge leathery wings hung from his back, hideous horns curved up from his forehead, and eerily glowing runes meandered over his bare chest and down his arms to his clawed hands. What malevolent force had twisted him thus? To Kael, Illidan's form was even more horrifying than that of the cursed naga, retaining as it did vestiges of the kaldorei he once had been. When he turned to face them, Kael was startled by the strip of black cloth covering Illidan's eyes; was the demon blind?

"Too much blood has been spilled on your behalf, Illidan," Malfurion said. "Even now I can feel the lands of Northrend reeling from the spell you cast. Imprisonment will not be enough this time."

Northrend? Kael hadn't realized that Maiev and Malfurion had meant Northrend when they'd referred to the roof of the world. A wisp of curiosity arose in Kael: did Illidan's spell have something to do with the forces in Northrend that had twisted Kel'Thuzad and Arthas?

Maiev moved forward, down the steps toward Illidan. "I will execute him myself."

"Fools! Can you not see?" Illidan stood, and his wings rustled as if he was preparing to take flight. "The spell we channeled was meant to strike at the undead — our common enemy! My mission was to destroy the Lich King's stronghold of Icecrown!"

Stunned, Kael looked at Lana'thel and Freywinn. The Lich King? Had Illidan been attacking the lich Kel'Thuzad, the servant of Arthas? Kael felt a surge of doubt: he hadn't questioned Maiev's assertion that Illidan was malevolent, an enemy to be destroyed, but if he was fighting against the undead and Arthas…

"At no heed to the cost?" Malfurion shouted. "Because of you Tyrande is dead!" He made an angry gesture, and immediately thick vines sprang up around Illidan, tangling around his legs and waist.

"What?" Illidan whispered, sounding almost shocked. "She is… dead?"

Kael was confused. "Your pardon, Lord Stormrage," he said to Malfurion, "but the priestess may still be alive! She was swept downriver, and though Freywinn did not find her, it's premature to simply assume that—"

"Silence, Kael!" Maiev snarled, but it was too late.

"You told me she was torn apart!" Malfurion roared at Maiev. "You lied to me!"

"The Betrayer's capture was our primary concern, Shan'do," Maiev said. "I knew you would go to her aid and we would lose our chance. I—"

"Just who is the betrayer now?" Malfurion replied. "I must go to Tyrande immediately."

"Believe me brother," Illidan said, "despite all our differences, you know that I would never lead Tyrande to harm. Let me help you. My naga can scour the river for us! Let me do this, at least."

Malfurion considered, then gave a sharp nod. "Very well."

Maiev was outraged. "What? After all this he's done, you would trust this traitor to—"

Malfurion gestured again, and the vines instantly fell from Illidan and coiled around Maiev, knocking her weapon from her hand. "Silence! I will deal with you later. Let's go—brother."

As they started to leave, Freywinn stepped in front of Malfurion. "Great one, the druidic ways have long been lost to our people. Before you leave our shores, I beg you—heal our land."

Malfurion looked down at him. "The old ways are not as lost as you think, young one," he said, putting his palm against Freywinn's forehead for a moment before he moved away.

"Don't just stand there," Maiev demanded as soon as Malfurion and Illidan were out of sight. "Cut me free!"

"I don't think so," Kael said, watching as Lana'thel picked up Maiev's weapon. "Your shan'do put you in those vines. I trust his judgment."

"Then you are a fool," she said. "As much a fool as he."

"Archdruid Malfurion seems very wise," Freywinn said, sounding dazed. He was gingerly touching his forehead.

"He's blinded by love," Maiev said contemptuously.

"Tell me more about those brothers, and their priestess, and the naga," Kael said, "and I will consider freeing you."

.

Some hours later, after the vines holding Maiev had receded and she had snatched up her weapon and rushed off, Kael, Lana'thel and Freywinn headed back toward Pyrewood Village. It was just after moonset; the sky was beginning to lighten with predawn.

The story that Kael had coaxed from Maiev was a puzzling one, even after making allowances for her strong biases. As Kael understood it, ten thousand years previously, Illidan, a Highborne sorcerer, had aided Queen Azshara's scheme to summon the dark Titan Sargeras to Azeroth, a folly that drew the attention of a demonic horde and resulted in the War of the Ancients. That war had only ended with the destruction of the Well of Eternity, an event which had very nearly shattered the entire world, but, according to Maiev, Illidan's crimes had not stopped there. Even though it had been forbidden, Illidan had clandestinely taken water from the Well prior to its destruction and had used it to create a new Well at the summit of Mount Hyjal. According to Maiev, it was for this last transgression above all else that Illidan had been imprisoned for ten thousand years in the deep prison of the Barrow Dens. Kael could not fathom why Illidan would have been so severely punished for attempting to restore what his people had lost.

Stranger still, Illidan had not escaped from the Dens but had been freed by Tyrande. When Kael had pressed Maiev for a reason why the High Priestess of Elune would do this, Maiev professed not to know. Clearly there was enmity between the two—Tyrande had apparently killed many of Maiev's Watchers in the process of freeing Illidan, and others had died fighting the naga that Illidan had summoned—but Kael sensed that there was more to the story.

And as for Illidan himself… As culpable as the demonic elf was for the deaths he and his naga had caused, and for the destruction his pursuit of power had brought to their people, Kael doubted Maiev's insistence that Illidan was irredeemably evil. The brief interaction Kael had witnessed between the brothers suggested otherwise; Illidan had seemed genuinely distressed about Tyrande, and if he truly were as monstrous as Maiev claimed, Malfurion surely would have had him executed thousands of years ago.

A fascinating quartet: he was sorry to see them go. He would have liked to know how the story ended — whether the brothers found their priestess, whether Maiev caught her prey… a pity he'd never know.

A messenger was waiting for them outside of Pyrewood Village, with orders that Kael and his key advisors were to report to Garithos at his camp north of Dalaran at dawn.

Puzzled—and somewhat uneasy—Kael asked Astalor, Vanthryn, Lana'thel, and Pathaleon to accompany him.

Garithos and his lieutenants rode out to meet them as they approached the camp.

"You are late, Prince Kael'thas," Garithos said as he reined in his horse. "I thought you elves prided yourselves on punctuality."

"It could not be helped, Lord Garithos. We've been assisting a delegation of night elves from across the sea," Kael replied. "They were pursuing a demon who—"

"I am not interested in your fanciful excuses. Night elves? Demons? What's next—dragons? You say you are here to serve the Alliance. I allowed you to establish your own base of operations, and how do you repay my trust? By wasting time traipsing around doing Light knows what!"

"We defended the residents of Ambermill from the undead, milord, and helped them relocate to Pyrewood Village."

"On whose authority?"

"Our own," Kael said. "Ambermill was under attack; there was no time to seek permission. We were honor-bound to protect them; we did what needed to be done."

"Honor." Garithos curled his lip. "What gall, talking to me about honor. You elves are here to serve the Alliance; therefore, you will obey my commands—and only my commands—to the letter! Is that clear?"

Gratifying as it might feel, returning Garithos' rudeness in kind was unwise. Kael took a deep breath. "Yes, Lord Garithos."

Garithos' horse stamped and tossed its head, as if impatient with the conversation, and Garithos changed the subject. "The undead have begun a new offensive. Their primary strike force marched south through Silverpine, but we managed to halt its advance at the base of the mountains."

Kael wasn't certain that he had heard correctly. Was Garithos finally going to give them the opportunity to fight alongside human soldiers? He knew that Lana'thel and Freywinn must be exhausted, but fortunately the rest of his people had spent the night at Pyrewood and would be well-rested. "We are ready to fight, milord," he said. "When shall we leave for the front?"

"We will be leaving immediately. But your people will be staying here."

"But they are fighters, experienced in battling the undead. Send them somewhere they can be useful!"

"Useful? Very well. Our scouts report that a second strike force may be heading toward Dalaran from the east. Repair the outlying observatories so that we can monitor that region."

Someone — Astalor or Vanthryn, Kael wasn't sure — made a soft scoffing noise, but Kael didn't dare turn his head to look. "Repairing the observatories is a task that will occupy only a handful of us for an hour or two," he said. "What about the rest of my people?"

"You chose to set yourself and your people apart from the Alliance," Garithos said. "Re-thinking that, are you?"

Kael held back from reminding Garithos that the elves had been told to fend for themselves when they'd arrived and all but forcibly driven from the main camp.

"If you move your people up here," Garithos said expansively, "I'm sure we'll be able to find something for them to do."

"Must be time to dig new latrines," Astalor murmured.

"Enough," Kael said quietly.

"Well, you have your orders, Prince Kael'thas," Garithos said. "I trust your elven ears heard them clearly enough? Move out!"

And then he and his aides wheeled their horses around and rode them back into the Alliance camp.

Kael swore quietly in Thalassian, then pulled himself together. "Let's get this over with," he said.

"If I could?" Pathaleon said hesitantly. "As your quartermaster, I wonder if we might perhaps consider the Grand Marshal's suggestion? Our resources are dwindling, after all, and with the Ambermill residents evacuated to Pyrewood Village, there's no one to protect in Silverpine except ourselves."

Kael looked at Vanthryn and Lana'thel; he could see that they agreed. "Is it worth tolerating Garithos' abuse in hopes that we might be seen as useful allies by the other human commanders?" he asked them.

"That might be prudent," Vanthryn said. "After all, any of them might be leading the army someday."

"Garithos might meet with an unfortunate accident," Astalor added.

"If we're underfoot," Lana'thel said as Kael gave Astalor a warning glare, "they might give us missions simply to have us out of the way."

"That's what worries me," Kael said. "We must risk it, if only because we have no other choice."

At Pyrewood Village, they gave their regards to the Ambermill refugees. When Kael explained that he had been ordered to transfer his forces to Garithos' encampment, William and Amelia stressed how grateful they were for the help that Kael and his people had given them, and admonished Kael to take care of himself.

"And you're not leaving without supplies," Amelia said brusquely. "In a horse-drawn wagon. Save your veins for something more important than transport." This last was addressed to Astalor, who pretended to be offended.

As the wagon was being loaded, Kael explained their new orders to the rest of his people. "After we salvage anything useful left at the farm," he said, "Astalor and I will see to the observatories while the rest of you get settled up north."

"Might I accompany you on the repair mission?" an elf with short hair asked. "The observatories are magitech; I worked on them with the Dalaran engineers more than once."

"Telonicus, isn't it?" Kael said. "Your expertise is most welcome."

As the few supplies left at the farm were quickly loaded onto Amelia's wagon, Kael went to the lean-to that had been his makeshift smithy and stood at the forge, looking down at the ashy leavings that were the only evidence of his attempt to repair the sword. It had only been a day, yet it felt as though much more time had passed… or rather, Kael had the sense that time was rushing past while he stood still, accomplishing nothing that he had vowed to do. It wasn't Garithos' scorn that troubled him; it was the knowledge that the kaldorei were also pursuing Arthas. Kael didn't know how he could face his people if Illidan was the one to take Arthas down. Then again, if Maiev caught her prey before Illidan did away with his…

He looked up as he heard someone walking toward him. It was Lana'thel and Selin.

"There may be undead near the observatories," Lana'thel said. "Selin and I will escort you and stand guard while you work."

As the observatories were located along Dalaran's outskirts rather than in the midst of its ruins, Kael was certain that he, Astalor, and Telonicus would be more than adequate to deal with any stray undead they might encounter. Nevertheless, he nodded and said, "The company is not unwelcome."

The corner of Lana'thel's mouth curved up in a charming half-smile, and she came to stand beside him at the forge. "In a way, I'm relieved that you weren't able to repair the sword here, in the middle of human lands. To me it's more fitting that it be restored in the heart of Quel'Thalas."

Kael, while he understood Lana'thel's sentiment, had no intention of working on the blade in Silvermoon. It had been humiliating enough having Lana'thel witness his initial failure; should he now entertain the general populace with a public spectacle of his inadequacy?

"You're tired," Lana'thel said when he didn't respond. "All will seem less bleak once you've had time to rest."

Kael glanced at Astalor, who looked unexpectedly reserved. The awkward silence was interrupted by Telonicus, who regarded the forge skeptically. "Is this where you were working on Felo'melorn?" he asked, picking up a brittle lump of charcoal. "It's a wonder you even got a fire to draw with such primitive equipment. I'm guessing the metal barely became warm?"

"Kael'thas said that the sword needed to be submerged in lava," Lana'thel said. "I thought he was joking."

"No, that's accurate, if impractical," Telonicus said. "The problem with forging in lava is the retrieval. 'A molten anvil is difficult to work with, especially if your flesh is charred to the bone!' — or so the Master Firesmith used to say."

"You studied under Voladranus?" Kael asked. What metalcraft he knew he had learned a thousand years ago from the burn-scarred elf; he had been especially sad to see him listed on the rolls of those who died during the invasion.

"Thaumaturgic metallurgy," Telonicus said. He crumbled the charcoal between his fingers. "A brilliant teacher, if eccentric. His solution to intractable problems was always 'Apply dragonfire!'"

"I well remember," Kael said. "Dragons must have been more plentiful in his day. Or more accommodating."

"So dragonfire solves all?" Lana'thel asked. "Well, what if we surrounded the forge with a bonfire? Would that approximate dragon's breath?"

"Doubtful," Telonicus said. "Metalworking takes sustained heat."

"But a dragon doesn't breathe flame steadily for hours, does it?" she countered.

Kael was certain that any fire the four of them could build would fall far short of being an adequate substitute for dragon's breath, but Telonicus said suddenly, "Actually… you've given me an idea, Lana. The semi-liquid compound used in the fire bombs I've been designing burns extremely hot. If applied to a sufficiently large quantity of wood…. it won't be dragon's breath, but it might come close." He curled his fingers into fists, and then bumped the knuckles of each hand against each other. "Arrange the sword on something flat with the broken ends abutting. I'll spread additional compound on the break, we'll coat the rest of the blade with clay, and then start the fire. We'll come back once it's burned out and see if it got hot enough for ends of the break to fuse."

Kael had his doubts, but Lana'thel and Telonicus were so enthusiastic that he nodded. Within moments, the two had reduced the lean-to to a pile of broken planks, which they began stacking around three sides of the forge.

Kael knew that they probably should be carrying out Garithos' orders and repairing the observatories, but he supposed another quarter-hour would hardly make any difference.

As Lana'thel and Selin ran off to pull down the rest of the farm's outbuildings—Astalor was nowhere to be seen—Telonicus announced that he would mix a clay-and-flux slurry to protect the greater portion of the blade from the flames.

After some thought, Kael arranged the forge's dead coals with a deep furrow traversing the width. When Telonicus returned with the slurry, the two of them coated all but the very edges of the break with the mixture; when it had dried, they buried all but the uncoated edges in the coals.

"This should allow the heated air to circulate around both sides of the blade," Telonicus said, squatting at the edge of the forge and peering critically at the setup. "But we should put something underneath the break in case the coals collapse. Something that won't burn."

Kael, feeling increasingly doubtful about the wisdom of such an unorthodox approach, was about to suggest that they not even bother when he recalled the shard of black metal in his pocket. He pulled it out and showed it to Telonicus. "Perhaps this?"

Telonicus' eyes went wide. "What is that from?"

"I do not know," Kael said, holding the shard of grey-veined black metal by one edge as Telonicus coated it with the flame compound, a thick, honey-like liquid. "I came across it in a weapons store-room during my first week in Dalaran. No one was ever able to identify its composition or what type of weapon it came from, so I kept it as a curiosity. " He slipped the shard under the edges of the break; Telonicus' compound made it cling to the underside of the broken blade. "I happened to find it in the ruins of my workshop when we were searching for Illidan."

"Fortunately for us." Telonicus carefully daubed more flame compound along the faint seam of the adjoining pieces. "Perhaps it wanted to be found by you."

"What a thought," Kael said. He noticed the packet with the remainder of Skorgrim's color crystals in the bottom of the empty coal box; he unfolded the packet and sprinkled the crystals into the forge. "I was told these would give flames a blue cast if the temperature was sufficiently great."

"Then we must ensure that it is sufficient."

Kael turned around to see who had spoken and saw Astalor — and next to him, Rommath.

Astalor waved a hand and said, "I thought that, as the three of us worked together with such success on Quel'Danas, coordinating our power to burn out the corrupted Sunwell, we could easily do so again. Felo'melorn is, after all, almost as much a symbol of the power of the quel'dorei— "

"Sin'dorei," Rommath said quietly.

"—the power of the sin'dorei as the Sunwell. It will mean a great deal to our people to have it restored."

Kael had come to understand Astalor well enough to know that what he said and did were not always truthful reflections of his thoughts and feelings, and wondered what, if anything, this apparently straightforward offer was masking. Taken at face value, it did offer an explanation — albeit a somewhat contrived one — for Rommath's presence, but Kael couldn't shake the feeling that it was a test of some sort. And if he failed, when he failed, it would demonstrate that, whether the task was magical or mundane, Kael could accomplish nothing of import on his own. He could almost hear Astalor asking someone — Theron, perhaps — how it was in the best interests of Quel'Thalas to follow such a weak, ineffectual person.

He rubbed his eyes. Lana'thel was right: exhaustion was making him fearful and suspicious, seeing disloyalty and treason where there was none.

if there was any culprit, it was within his own heart. The crowds in Silvermoon who had greeted him with hostility had mired him in self doubt, certain that they would never follow him the way they had followed his father. And why should they? Anasterian's belief in the superiority of the elves was so strong that he never would have turned to outsiders for help: had Kael made his people look weak by turning to the Alliance of Lordaeron?

"My lord?" Rommath looked concerned, and Kael realized that he had not responded to Astalor's comment.

"Yes, of course," he said. "Restoring the sword is a task worthy of our skills."

Lana'thel and Selin and Telonicus approached with armloads of broken planks and piled them around and over the forge. As Telonicus poured the last of his flame compound over the mound of wood, Astalor and Rommath started to move into position around the perimeter of the woodpile.

"No," Kael said suddenly. "Stop. Wait."

"Is something wrong?" Rommath asked.

"There is something I must say," Kael replied. "Indulge me."

He put his hand over his chest, clutching the fire-amulet through his robe. Its presence was a reminder of the vision he'd had during the phoenix-transformation that had created the Scorched Grove, the vision of the old man — his father's spirit, he believed — who had urged him to persevere.

"What does it mean to lead a people, to be a ruler? What qualities does it require, what virtues?

"I learned the answer from the examples of my father and brother: courage, confidence, strength, unshakeable resolve, nobility of spirit. I have never considered myself to possess those characteristics in any great measure, but then again I always expected to serve as an advisor to the crown, not wear it myself. A role with which I would have been content.

"But my father and brother were taken from us, and I am expected to rule in their stead."

Kael knew that when even these, his closest advisors, looked at him, they saw not a strong, inspiring leader who could guide their people, but a bookish scholar who needed constant protection. Arthas himself had seen it the day they met: "Leave this old elf to his books," he had told Jaina.

"I have struggled with how to become the kind of king my father was," Kael continued, "the kind of king my brother would have been, but I now know that this is impossible."

They all looked startled, and all but Astalor and Telonicus opened their mouths to protest, but Kael held up his hand. "Our world has changed. We can no longer live in placid contentment behind golden doors and walls, muffling our ears to the cries of those outside our borders, for that which protected us has been smashed to dust. We are beset by multiple enemies, and have seen the allies of old withdraw the hand they once extended in welcome.

"But we will not let that stop us. We are sin'dorei! We will remake ourselves, and rise from the ashes into new glory!"

Kael imagined gathering up his frustrations and uncertainties and self-reproach like so much spectral kindling and casting them onto the unlit pyre; somehow this symbolic gesture made him feel lighter, as though he'd been relieved of a weight he hadn't even noticed that he was carrying.

"Anasterian did what was necessary for his time, in the way he thought best, according to his nature," Kael said, feeling the truth of the words soar as he spoke them, "and so must I. I will do what is necessary for our time, but I must do it in my own way."

Still holding the amulet tightly, he drew on the power he had stored in the verdant spheres, drinking it in until he felt it pool and burst in his chest, an incandescence that arced outward to his fingertips, his pinions. As Astalor and Rommath fell back from the igniting woodpile, Kael spread his arms, his wings, and rose up.

As the flames below him became an inferno, he circled above it, joyous, the crescendo of magic pulsing from the center of his being in ebbing waves. High, higher he soared, so far that the land became a tapestry of green and brown and yellow and gray; through the clouds he flew, gloriously free, applauded by the sun. He knew he must return; he had a great mission before him...

He was lying on his back. Although there were twigs and sharp leaves poking into his skin, he felt calm, more fully rested than he had been in weeks.

_(He dimly recalled spiralling down, away from the wistful sun, though the clouds, stretching out his fiery talons as the field rushed up at him; slowing his descent with strong backbeats of his wings until talons became feet and wingtips became hands.)_

A gust of wind whispered through the dry stalks around him; then he heard faint voices.

He stood up. He had landed in an uncleared area in the southeastern quadrant of the field. Over the tops of the shoulder-high vegetation that surrounded him, he saw that he was some distance south of the house and the forge — or rather, south of the massive twin bonfires blazing where the house and forge had been. Astalor, Rommath, Selin, Lana'thel, and Telonicus were running toward him.

There was a rustle at his feet, and saw that someone— Astalor, most likely — had teleported a robe to him. As he slipped it on, he noticed that his amulet was missing; it must have fallen off when he transformed.

"Clearly you've mastered the phoenix-form," Astalor panted, slowing to a walk as he came near. "A graceful landing instead of falling, and you aren't sleeping for four days afterward."

"A good thing too," Kael said. "Garithos isn't known for his patience."

"That was quite a speech," Selin said. "I feel privileged to be one of the first to have heard it."

"The fire is burning well," Lana'thel said.

"Yes," Kael said, "although not quite as impressive as I'd hoped." Half-thinking, he gestured toward the bonfire.

A massive gout of flame burst from his fingertips and arced over the field toward the forge's bonfire. When it hit, it doubled the height of the flames and threaded them with brilliant blue.

Kael stared at his hand in astonishment. How as it possible to cast such a powerful blast without the effort his spellcasting had required ever since Arthas had invaded Quel'Thalas? Wonderingly, he flicked his fingers, conjuring a small fireball. He felt almost dizzy with elation. He was… restored? Had the Sunwell somehow been re-ignited?

"Is there something wrong, my prince?" Selin asked.

"I… no," he said. He nodded at the two bonfires. "As we will have to wait for those to die down before we see the results of our attempt at dragonfire, let us pass the time by repairing Garithos' observatories."

.

They moved quickly through the forest between the farm and the observatory south of the ruins of Dalaran, alert for undead, but they saw none. Ambermill too was empty, eerily silent.

The first observatory was just outside the ruins of the South Gate. While Telonicus and Rommath made the repairs, Kael sat on a stone and studied a puff of conjured flame, considering how he might convert its fire energy to a form that would recharge the magic in the depleted moon-crystals at the heart of his verdant spheres. He had tried casting other spells—first an arcane spark, of course, and then a frost bloom—but they made him feel clumsy and vaguely ill. Although he preferred the feel of arcane, fire had always come most easily to him, so perhaps it was no wonder that it was the first to return.

"That's a rare sight," Lana'thel said as she and Astalor picked their way through the rubble toward him.

"Clearly you have spent very little time around mages," Astalor said. "Conjuring that sort of non-burning flame is the first spell a mage is taught if they are still a very young child, but after it's mastered no one but those attempting to impress non-mages ever waste time with something so useless again."

"I didn't mean the fire," Lana'thel countered. "I meant the sight of Kael'thas smiling."

"We've not had much to smile about for some time," Telonicus said without looking up from his work.

"And now we do?" Rommath asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Though this task is small," Kael said, "it is our first official mission for the Alliance of Lordaeron."

"So you consider the insult of being assigned a menial task… progress?" Astalor asked.

"I do if it marks the beginning of a new era of human-elven cooperation."

"Done," Telonicus said. He made a final adjustment; as he closed a panel at the base of the observatory obelisk and bolted it in place, the orbs atop the observatory crackled with energy, and then began to rotate. "The other two are along the eastern shore of the lake."

"Portal?" Astalor asked.

"No," Kael said, dismissing the flame. "If Garithos' scouts were correct, a large undead strike force is gathering in that area. I would prefer not to teleport blindly into the enemy."

"Walk or swim?" Astalor asked. The shoreline, once a pleasant greenway that curved around the base of steep cliffs, was now edged with scree and jagged debris. ""Either way — "

He didn't finish his sentence. Three creatures Kael recognized as naga emerged from the water and glided toward them. The two in the front, scaly dragon-headed brutes carrying massive bronze spears, were similar to the corpses Kael had seen in the courtyard where Illidan had been doing his ritual, but the third was different. Smaller, with light blue skin, its features were more delicate than the other two; its glossy, elaborately-curled black hair and upper torso made it seem almost feminine, although as it came closer Kael saw that what he had at first taken to be hair was actually an assemblage of snakes, something he found even more horrifying than the creature's six arms. It held a large, ornate bow in one of its three left hands.

"Naga!" Kael said, conjuring a fireball, and noting that Lana'thel and Selin had already raised their weapons and taken a battle-ready stance. "You came to this land with the demon Illidan!"

The naga with the bow spoke. "We are on our own now, good prince. I am called Lady Vashj." Her voice would have been pleasantly melodious if not for its eerie watery quaver. "My brethren and I come in peace, to offer you our aid."

Even without Maiev's stories of naga brutality, Kael knew well enough not to mistake polite speech for nobility or gentleness of spirit. "You have nothing I need, witch," he said firmly.

"Is that so?" Her inhuman face gave no indication if she was offended or amused, which was unsettling. She made some guttural hissing sounds and gestured to her companions, who turned and dove into the water. "I thought you might require boats to reach the observatories you seek," she said.

"How do you know what I require?"

She swayed slightly. "We observed your progress, and overheard the conversation that followed." Behind her, the water churned as the algae-stained hulls of two small boats broke the surface, then were set upright.

"And you would give these freely?" Kael asked. "Why should I trust you, my lady?"

"For the same reason that I trust that you and your five companions will not attack me. Our two races share a common ancestry, Kael. Now, against the undead, we share a common peril. These boats are merely a gesture of goodwill."

Kael considered. The boats seemed to be serviceable, and using them would be expedient. As long as they remained cautious and watchful around the naga, perhaps it was worth the risk…

"You hesitate," Vashj said. "Would it ease your mind if we withdrew?"

Astalor folded his arms. "To ambush us from beneath the water?"

"How suspicious you land dwellers are," she said. "If you prefer, we could accompany you from the shallows." She added, "As a sign of trust, we will even allow you to carry our weapons."

"Thus drawing our attention away from the warriors you have hidden in the depths of the lake?" Astalor said.

"If I had such superior numbers and meant you harm," Vashj said smoothly, "I would have overpowered you by now." She was in constant motion, torso swaying like a reed, her coif of water serpents and eels undulating and coiling… Grotesque, and yet also fascinating.

"Very true," Kael said. ""I accept your offer. Thank you."

"Unfortunately, we found no oars near the boats," Vashj said. "My warriors can pull the boats across the lake, but that will be impossible from the shallows."

 _Well-played,_ Kael thought and almost laughed. _And now they're 'her warriors' instead of our brethren. This Lady excels at delicate distinctions._ Glancing at Astalor, Kael motioned to the naga to bring a boat near, and then stepped into it. Lana'thel and Selin followed him; Astalor, Rommath and Telonicus boarded the other.

Vashj made a series of hissing, clicking sounds—naga language, Kael assumed—and her warriors moved to the prow of each boat. Kael found these naga males—he assumed they were males, as their draconian heads and massive torsos differed so much in appearance from Vashj — truly repulsive, even without the overpoweringly oily odor that emanated from their skin.

Vashj gave a signal, and as one the naga loomed up out of the water, holding out the blunt ends of their spears toward Kael and the others. "In the absence of rope…" she said.

Kael, who had been startled by the sudden movement, said, "Ah, I understand. We are meant to hold onto the warriors' weapons in order to allow them to pull the boats across the lake?"

Vashj moved to Lana'thel and held out her bow. "Perhaps you would carry this for me until we have made the crossing?"

Reluctantly, Lana'thel took the bow and then looked at Kael.

"As assurance that she will not attack us from range," Kael said, "and, I suspect, an acknowledgement that you are the superior warrior among our company."

Vashj made a sibilant sound which Kael took to mean that he had interpreted her actions correctly, and then the boats began to move. Moments later they were at the far shore, within sight of the second observatory.

"Thank you," Kael said to Vashj, bowing to her before he stepped out of the boat. Her silvery eyes were expressionless, but once Kael and the others were ashore and Lana'thel had returned her bow, she inclined her head and bowed slightly as well — a gesture that was oddly graceful despite the writhing snakes framing her face — and then turned and dove into the water after her warriors.

"How unexpected," Astalor said as they hurried toward the observatory.

"She said they were abandoned by Illidan. Perhaps they are looking for allies?"

"They won't find allies here," Selin said. "Their best hope is to return to the sea and swim back to rejoin the rest of their kind. It's not far to the western coast; they should be able to travel overland through Silverpine."

"Done," Telonicus said as the observatory began to hum with power. "On to the next?"

The last of the observatories was soon repaired. Kael, though eager to return to the farm and retrieve Felo'melorn, decided that the prudent course was to first give Garithos their report.

"Open a portal," he said to Astalor and Rommath. Once they reached the gates of the Alliance camp, Kael asked Selin to locate their new encampment.

"He doesn't look happy," Lana'thel said, looking at something over Kael's shoulder.

Kael turned. Garithos and his aides Saxon and Swift were riding toward them, scowling with disapproval.

"Hail, Lord Garithos," Kael began. "The observatories have been repaired as you requested. We were just about to—"

"Is it true that you consorted with the vile naga?" Garithos asked.

Kael was shocked, but as there was no denying it, the only thing to do was to explain. "Well, yes milord. They helped us cross the lake. I can assure you they pose no threat to us or to—"

"They are inhuman, and must be crushed like any other enemy!" Garithos' eyes narrowed. "Be careful where you place your loyalties, blood elf. I will not tolerate treason in my ranks."

Kael was astounded. Garithos was threatening him? "My loyalty is to the Alliance, Lord Garithos, and always has been."

"That remains to be seen. Now I must return to the front. You will remain here and wait for further orders."

Kael watched Garithos and Saxon ride away. How had he known about the naga? Had he actually sent someone to spy on them?

"An accident," Astalor muttered. "I could make it look like an accident."

.

Vanthryn and Pathaleon had found an acceptable location for their campsite not far from Skorgrim's smithy, and as Kael approached he saw that tents had been pitched and campfires built. Usually these sights cheered him, but not this afternoon.

It was far too early to sleep, and so he thought perhaps it might be useful to take a walk. He'd not gone far before the toll of the past few days came due, and he collapsed onto a fallen log not far from where Skorgrim's wagon had been. He wondered if the dwarf had in fact packed up shop and gone back to Ironforge.

Listening to the faint noises of the camp —- horses whinnying, voices shouting, the clang of metal on metal from weapon drills — he knew his approach to currying favor with the Alliance had failed. In theory it should have worked: prior to the invasion of Quel'Thalas and the destruction of Dalaran, Kael and his people had proven their worth multiple times, in various ways, to the seven kingdoms, and seemed to be looked upon favorably by the dwarves. Unfortunately, Garithos' promotion to Grand Marshal and Lord Commander had removed all checks on Sir Othmar's personality, encouraging his rude bigotry to blossom into outright tyranny. It seemed that the only thing to do now was to discreetly consider other allies.

"What thoughts weigh so heavily on you, my lord?"

Kael looked up. For the second time that day, he was surprised to see Rommath; this time, without Astalor. "I wonder if we should consider crossing the sea," Kael said. "Return to Kalimdor. Re-establish ties with our night elf brethren. Kaldorei prejudices can hardly be more harsh than what we are subject to here."

"A year ago that would have been unthinkable," Rommath said, shaking his head as he sat next to Kael. "But with the Stormrages and the high priestess to vouch for us…" He lowered his voice. "Oh yes, half the camp knows of your encounter, thanks to Freywinn. Are you thinking of pursuing an alliance?"

"Is it too bold?"

"No," Rommath said thoughtfully, "not if they are amenable to diplomacy and reason."

"Such have been my thoughts as well."

They sat for several minutes in silence. Kael wondered if he should perhaps say something acknowledging their recent awkwardness, but then thought better of it: Rommath's drunken confession was in the past, and was likely to be something the Grand Magister would prefer to forget.

A crunching sound on the path: Astalor and Lana'thel.

"We should retrieve the sword before the sun sets," Astalor said. "Who knows what we'll be doing tomorrow?"

"An excellent suggestion," Kael said, standing quickly. He was amused that he felt mildly guilty for having been discovered sitting alone with Rommath.

They found Lieutenant Swift near the command tent. "Are our hawkstriders stabled with the horses?" Kael asked him.

"Your hawk what now?"

"Hawkstriders. Our mounts. We brought two of them." The way that Swift was leering at Lana'thel was intolerable.

"The big chickens? I couldn't say — but it's no matter. Lord Garithos has said you're to remain here."

"I need to retrieve an item from our prior encampment."

"Is that what you call it? Your prior encampment? We call it 'the place the elves burned down.' " Swift shook his head and made tsk-tsk sounds. "Did you think we wouldn't notice? The flames and smoke were visible for miles."

Kael was dismayed. Whoever investigated the fire must have followed them to the lake and thus seen them with the naga! He looked at Astalor, who from his expression had made the same conclusion.

"It was a dragon," Astalor said.

Swift snorted. "You don't expect me to believe that."

"No, he doesn't," Kael said. "The truth of it is that one of our engineers has been developing a fire compound for the Alliance. The farm we'd been using as our base appeared to be an acceptable location for testing, as it was long abandoned and the buildings derelict. The test got out of hand. My apologies."

Swift considered this. "Why are you going back there?"

"In our hurry to escape the fire, I left something behind," Kael said. "A broken sword that belonged to my great-great-grandfather. It has sentimental value."

"Couldn't be that important if you left it behind."

Kael had a momentary urge to incinerate the man or at the very least strangle him, but he willed himself to be calm and speak patiently. "I meant to retrieve it after we completed our mission to repair the observatories, but it slipped my mind."

Swift looked sceptical, but motioned to a group of nearby soldiers and told them, "Get the wagon and escort this elf to that burned-out farm down south."

"That's not necessary," Kael'thas said. "I can just portal—"

"No," Swift said. "You'll do it my way, or not at all."

"We'll go with you," Astalor said.

Swift gave him a sour look. "Since when does it take more than one elf to pick up a sword?"

"Would you expect _your_ king to go anywhere without members of his Royal Guard?" Astalor countered.

Swift clenched his jaw. "Fine. But two of you need to stay here to guarantee I get my wagon back."

"That is… acceptable."

The wagon, when it came, had barred sides.

"Kael'thas Sunstrider is heir to the throne of the kingdom of Quel'Thalas!" Astalor said angrily. "This is a prisoner transport!"

"It's what I have," Swift said. "Take it or leave it."

Kael, furious to be receiving yet more insulting treatment from Garithos' men, was nevertheless determined to do whatever it took to retrieve Felo'melorn, and so he said, "It's of no consequence, Astalor. I am not diminished by this." He glanced at Lana'thel as he climbed in, and she quickly followed; and after some inaudible communication with Astalor and Telonicus, Rommath did as well.

 _To be treated like a criminal and be thus humiliated…_ he thought as the wagon bumped and jostled, _I have had my fill of the Alliance._ He did not wish to speak in front of the human driver, however, and so with a quick shake of his head signalled Lana'thel and Rommath to be silent as well.

.

Kael had expected to see twin heaps of charred, smoking wood at the farm, but only the collapsed remains of the house were visible from the road.

Where the forge bonfire had been there was — nothing, or rather, nothing that he had come for. Ash, soot, and fragments of charcoal and blackened wood radiated outward from a central point, at which was a small pile of ash outlined by still-warm traces of metal. Kael knelt and sifted through the ash, carefully at first and then more and more frantically, but found nothing but bits of slag and a few shards of red-flecked glass.

He looked up at the others, his horror mirrored in their faces.

He had destroyed Felo'melorn.

By the time they returned to the Alliance camp, he was mute with self-reproach. He had been punished for his arrogance, found unworthy by the ancestors. He barely noticed the human soldiers gaping and laughing at them as they climbed down from the prisoner wagon; he followed Selin to their camp, where he slipped into his tent and, infinitely weary, sank into oblivion.

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He woke next morning to a commotion.

Lieutenant Tierny and several of Garithos' elite guard stood in the center of his camp, talking to his people.

"Should I take my tent?" Veras was asking.

"No. just your weapons."

"Good morning, lieutenant," Kael said. "What is this about?"

"Greetings, Prince Kael. I bring word from Grand Marshal Garithos. Apparently the observatories you repaired yesterday have detected a large undead force massing nearby. Lord Garithos has commanded that you crush the undead before they can march on Dalaran."

A real mission at last? How unexpected. "Excellent! My people are all well-rested and ready for battle."

"Unfortunately, your forces may be a little thinned. You see, Lord Garithos has also ordered that all foot soldiers, cavalry, and support teams report to the front." He attempted to show Kael a list with many names, but Kael didn't need to see it, not when an unhappy crowd was gathering at the center of the camp: Lana'thel, Vanthryn, Sarannis, Veras, Selin, Thaladred, Gathios, Telonicus, Malande, Ennas…

"This is preposterous!" Kael said. "You're leaving me with less than one-tenth of my forces! Am I to assault the undead with nothing more than sticks and harsh language?"

"That is how mages fight, after all, isn't it?" Tierny joked. "Staves and curses?" He saw that Kael was not laughing along with him, and stopped smiling. "The grand marshal has great confidence in your abilities. Be creative."

And then he left.

"Garithos…" Kael said. "I'm starting to hate that man."

"Just starting?" Rommath murmured.

"So what shall we do?" Navarius asked. "Call on Silvermoon for reinforcements?"

"And have them snatched up to serve Garithos on the front? No. We will do this on our own. He thinks we will fail: let us prove him wrong."

"As he's taken all our priests and our paladin," Rommath said, "give me a moment to brew some healing potions."

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As it was the eastern observatories that had most likely detected undead — heading for Dalaran from the ruins of Lordaeron's capital city — Kael and his band of mages headed southeast from the Alliance camp, along the eastern shore of Lordamere Lake.

"I don't see any undead," Sandoval said. "How very disappointing."

"Prepare to he elated, then," Navarius said. "That looks to be a band of several dozen attacking the observatory."

The ghouls were the more aggressive type, and responded to their attacks by charging, but the elves managed to whittle their numbers while staying out of their reach.

It was only when Tenris turned away from the ground and began flinging his flame-bolts to the north that Kael noticed three additional groups of Scourge converging on them from the north, east, and south. With the lake to their back in the west, they were surrounded with nowhere to go.

"We must portal out, now!" Astalor shouted. "It is the only way! There are too many!"

The lake behind them churned suddenly, and a rain of arrows arced over their heads, pinning down the nearest group of undead.

Lady Vashj emerged from the water, a dozen naga warriors and sorceresses behind her. "Ishnu-dal-dieb, Prince Kael. We've come to join your fight against the vile dead."

"Greetings, Lady Vashj," Kael said. "I would welcome your aid gladly, but the commander I serve does not approve of your kind." Kael followed the flame-sphere that Taladram had sent toward an abomination with a carpet of scorched earth.

"I do not see him here, sharing your peril." Vashj said. "Let me bolster your forces with my own. If not, you and your brethren will surely fall."

"What you say is true. But I…" Kael looked around. Blood streamed not just from Astalor's arm, but Tenris' and Sandoval's and Rommath's as well. Kael watched two young mages he did not know well pass a dagger between them.

"More undead!" Vorath shouted as yet another wave of undead crested the hills to the northwest.

Kael could not ask them to fight like this. To die like this. "I accept your offer, Vashj."

"Good! Let's get to it then!" Vashj and her naga glided from the water. The myrmidons charged the undead with trident and spears, while the sorceresses and Vashj moved in front of the elves, the former casting lightning and frost bolts while Vashj shot what appeared to be an endless stream of arrows from her bow. By the time the undead were vanquished their charred remains covered the land around the observatory like grisly snow. Vashj had lost two of her people; Kael had lost none of his.

"You have my thanks, Lady," Kael said, watching as the naga extricated the corpses of the two fallen myrmidons from the field and bore them into the lake. "This victory would not have been possible without your aid, although I fear I may have doomed myself by accepting it."

"Why?"

"My forces were severely reduced before being sent on this mission," Kael said. "I believe it was done to ensure that my company and I would not survive this battle. The fact that we did will make it obvious that we had assistance."

"But we did assist you, did we not?"

"Yes, and for that I am grateful," Kael said, putting his hand on his heart and giving a small bow. "However, to some, the good deed is less important than the form of the doer. We were observed during our previous mission to this area, and forbidden by my commander to associate with you further."

"The human you serve trusts no race but his own," Vashj said. "His sense of honor runs no deeper than his tolerance. Why do you continue to serve such a one?"

"It is loyalty and duty that bind me to him and to this… failing Alliance," Kael said. "I trusted that unswerving service would be acknowledged and repaid in kind, but now those tenets seem as distant as our ruined homeland."

"Then perhaps, young Kael, it is time to find a new path to power and glory. Magic flowed through your veins for over ten thousand years. You became accustomed to it, grew to depend on it. And now, with the corruption of your land and the Sunwell that empowered you, you have been cut off from your power, from your birthright! Without a new source of magic, your people will surely die." She leaned toward him. "How long can your loyal servants bleed for you?"

Astalor waved a hand dismissively. "We each do what must be done, in our own way, according to our nature."

"I cannot allow it to continue, Astalor," Kael said to him. "Draining your life force in this manner…"

"There are other founts of power in this world, Kael," Vashj said. "Nearly limitless supplies, if one knows where to look, and how to take advantage of them. Demons, for instance."

"Demons?"

"Yessss," Vashj said. "There are methods of drawing upon a demon's energy as you once drew upon the arcane energy in the Sunwell."

"You speak of madness, my lady," Kael said. "We will never be that desperate."

"Your aversion is understandable. But still— "

"Prince Kael!" Sandoval said, pointing to the north. "Garithos' standard-bearers!"

Navarius peered into the distance. "He's brought a full battalion with him."

"Damn! Vashj, you'd best leave," Kael said. "I cannot guarantee your people's safety. Hurry!"

Vashj and her people dove into the lake, but not soon enough: a squad of Garithos' cavalry came thundering down the hill.

"Naga warriors!" one of them shouted as they charged toward the water.

"Forget about them!" Garithos bellowed. His pikemen encircled the elves. "So, Kael, you've shown your true colors at last. I knew you were in league with those serpents. Now I have all the proof I need to execute every traitorous one of you!"

"Execute? You wouldn't dare!" Tenris cried.

"Oh, wouldn't I?" Garithos said.

"Lor'themar Theron —"

"We'll simply tell anyone who asks that you disregarded a direct order and cost hundreds of human lives."

"That's not true!" Kael said. "We've done nothing for _months_ but fight to save human lives!"

"You don't deny that you disobeyed a direct order, though, do you?" Garithos tossed back. "You elves may not understand military discipline, but by the Light, I do."

"Please, milord, spare my people!" Kael begged. "It was my decision to —"

"Save your breath," Garithos said. "I never trusted you vainglorious elves. It was a mistake to accept you into the Alliance in the first place. Now, at long last, you'll be dealt with appropriately. Take them away!"

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_Next Chapter: Jail, jailbreak, and the entry into Outland._

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_ first posted 20 June 2015; rev 23 Sept _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you once again to my beta **Bryn,** herder of large ideas and small bits of punctuation, and to **Stinger** for being a reliable source of military knowledge.


	12. The Observation Grounds (Delrissa), Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imprisoned beneath the Dalaran ruins and slated for execution, Prince Kael'thas finds a new ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a big thank you to my beta **Bryn** for excellent suggestions and meticulous proofreading. This chapter gave both of us a hell of a fight, but in the end the sin'dorei, er, I mean the _editors,_ reigned supreme. I touched the chapter last, so any goofs, roughness, or runaway purple prose are entirely my doing.
> 
> As with previous chapters, this one draws heavily on (and embellishes scenes from) _Warcraft III: The Frozen Throne,_ specifically the Alliance Campaign "Curse of the Blood Elves, Chapter 3: The Dungeons of Dalaran."
> 
> OCs: Garithos' lieutenant Swift gets one last mention; everyone else is canon.

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~ : |12| : ~

_I call that a good start!_

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Of late I have often thought about the relative merits of truth and deception.

When I was young I preferred truth above all, and scorned deception, and often wished that our hearts and minds were as transparent as glass to one another. Over the centuries I have come to see that such transparency would make life insufferably dull, even unpleasant. Yes, we would save ourselves the embarrassment of pursuing the indifferent, but we would also lose the pleasure of discovery, of gradually shedding veils during the dance… and we would be forced to endure the pain of seeing our beloved's interest in us fade.

And so I have come to feel that deception is necessary — for others, for us. Sometimes it is a kindness to others not to reveal all of our thoughts to them; and often it is advantageous to us act as if we trust, even while we doubt...

.

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The darkness and silence were so absolute that they weighed him down like sand. For a moment he had the wild, fearful thought that he was dead, but of course he was not dead; he could feel his heart pounding. He strained to glean something, anything, from the silence, but heard nothing but his own shallow breathing.

And then, to his horror, he realized that he was lying on a pile of rag-covered bones.

As he hurriedly pushed himself away he could feel his throat contracting as if he was shouting, but he heard only the scuffing sound of his boots, and the rustle of his robe. A stone wall stopped his retreat and he huddled for a moment, then began to inch along, exploring the rough, slightly damp surface. After a few moments his fingers brushed something that sent a wave of numbness up his arm to his shoulder. He quickly pulled his hand back. The metal disc he had touched had been enchanted with a magic-suppressing ward — ironically enough, one that he himself had helped create as a member of the Kirin Tor — and thus he knew that he was in the dungeons of Dalaran, which obviously had survived the destruction of the city.

Not that this surprised him. He remembered Garithos giving the order for their arrest and vowing to execute them. Hoping that the threat was an empty one, Kael had decided that it was better not to risk being killed on the spot for fighting back or trying to escape: better to surrender and live until Silvermoon or the Kirin Tor heard of their arrest and sent a delegation to bargain for their release. And so, with warning looks at Rommath and Astalor, Kael told his troops to stand down and allowed himself to be surrounded. As he was being marched off the battlefield, he heard Garithos' lieutenants command the elves to drop their weapons: most complied, but there had been a shout, and suddenly seething knots of Alliance soldiers were attacking Kael's people. When Kael had stopped to call for order his guards had snarled curses and shoved him; after that there had been a cracking sound, and a dull red swirl of pain, and now he was here.

Kael cautiously touched the throbbing ache on the side of his head; his hair was hair stiff with dried blood. How could he have allowed this to happen? How could he have so misjudged the depth of human bigotry, the lengths they would go to exercise their hatred? How many of Kael's people were now imprisoned with him, weaponless, stripped of magic and speech, helpless and afraid, utterly at the mercy of the humans? Kael tried calling out to them, but the magical ward swallowed his words.

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It was often said that Dath'Remar could go without sleep for a years at a time. In the past Kael had more than once quipped that he wished the legend explained how his ancestor had accomplished such a feat, for he himself wasn't able to manage more than a week or two of wakefulness.

He remembered those comments now, as hour after hour passed while the sleep that could have him away from the increasingly sharp pangs of hunger and thirst eluded him.

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Lana'thel motioned to him to join her by the campfire. It was a habit they had fallen into naturally as they battled Scourge in Quel'Thalas, sitting together at evening meal. Next to Lana'thel sat a young blonde human woman — she reminded him slightly of Jaina — holding an armload of blue flowers, which Kael somehow knew it was her job to deliver. He saw that the young woman had exchanged clothes with Lana'thel, who now wore an elaborately-draped green gown trimmed in gold instead of her usual battered metal and leather armor.

Kael hoped that Lana'thel had a cup of cool water to share with him, something to ease his thirst and wash the foul taste from his mouth. He explained to the women that he had never before experienced thirst — or hunger for that matter — in the palace or in Dalaran, for if food or drink were not at hand, it had always been a simple matter to conjure some to temporarily numb the appetite. Now, with the ability to conjure taken from him, his thirst was magnified tenfold.

Lana'thel smiled, then held out a goblet. He took it, but as he tipped it to drink he saw that it was filled, not with water, but with blood.

.

Feverish, he forced himself to search through the pile of bones, hoping that somehow there would be something that he could eat or drink or use…

And then he realized what he was doing, and crawled back to the wall.

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The sound of footsteps. It took him a moment to comprehend that the vertical stripes of black and dark grey he was now seeing were the metal bars of the cell door against a background of shadow; It took a moment more to understand that this meant someone carrying a lantern had entered the corridor.

"I hate it down here," someone said as the echoing footsteps became louder. "It was bad enough when the city was there, but now it's ten times worse. Undead 'round every corner, walls and ceilings that could fall down any minute. Have you seen the northeast wing? Half buried."

"I did," a second voice said. "I'm not any happier to be down here than you are, but orders are orders. We have to make sure they're not trying anything sneaky."

"Waste of time," the first voice replied. "Two days and they're all as wilted as last year's lettuce. Wouldn't it save us all a lot of bother if we just left them down here for a few weeks? Who'd miss a few dozen elves? No one, that's who!"

"Well, it'll all be over soon," the second guard said. "Lord Garithos plans to execute the lot of them at dawn."

 _Executed?_ Was Garithos truly mad enough to carry it through? Where were the Kirin Tor? Why had Lor'themar done nothing?

Kael put his head in his hands. He had tried, he had done the best he was able, and yet it had been insufficient. He had not protected his people, the most solemn of the three vows he had made at his father's funeral pyre. He had failed to take vengeance upon Arthas; he had destroyed Felo'melorn instead of repairing it; and now he had led those who trusted him most to their deaths. And his own death as well: he would never again see the sun's resplendence, the lullaby of a candle's flame, or the feast of color and reflection that was Silvermoon; he would never again be moved by the arc of a bird's flight, the glimmer of passion in a lover's eyes, or the flash of a sword's blade….

The two guards had stopped ten or so paces away, looking into a cell that Kael could not see.

"Sunrise can't get here fast enough," the other guard said. "Look at 'em, sleeping in a pile like a nest of rats. They give me the creeps."

"Don't worry. This prison was built by the Kirin Tor to keep their pets from getting loose. The elves' magic is useless inside those enchanted cells."

As the guards turned and walked toward him, Kael closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

"Speaking of magic," the first guard said, "you know what this one told Lieutanant Swift? That riding in the transport wagon didn't _diminish_   him." He snorted. "I'll bet he's feeling diminished now."

The guards laughed.

The flash of light that came next startled Kael, as did the nauseating stink of offal and incinerated flesh… but then a different smell rolled over him, a chill, oily smell that cut through the humid air of the dungeon like a sharp sea wind.

There was a hissing, slithering sound and a second flash of light. As strong arms lifted him, he heard Vashj say, "Greetings, Kael. I would have arrived sooner, but we had to wait for the humans to leave in order to retrieve certain items from the battlefield." She took his hand — her clawed fingers surprisingly warm — and pressed something into his palm. "Apparently they thought these worthless."

As Kael's vision recovered, he saw three dimly-glowing stones: the mooncrystals of Ban'dinoriel. "Thank you, Vashj. Once again I am in your debt," he said hoarsely, overcome with relief. He lifted his hand, and the crystals moved into place along the boundaries of his arcane aura, casting just enough light to illuminate Vashj's face and shoulders.

"You are wounded." She motioned with one hand, and what looked liked a swirl of water curved toward Kael, ghosting over his face and around his head; when it faded, the pain was gone. "I assume I am not too late to free your brethren?" she asked.

"On the contrary, Vashj. Your timing is impeccable — we are to be executed in the morning — but there is nowhere to run. Garithos' forces outnumber us ten to one."

"The odds have improved in your favor since my arrival, have they not?"

"They have." He noticed that she carried swords and daggers in addition to her bow.

"You stand at a dangerous crossroads, Prince Kael'thas," she said. "Your people can either stay here and eventually be slaughtered by human hands… or you can choose a darker path. To freedom."

"What is this darker path?" There was a third path, of course: quickly freeing his people and portaling them to Silvermoon before Garithos' guards noticed their liberation.

"In the city above us is a gateway that leads to other worlds. We can use it to travel to where Lord Illidan awaits; lead your people to him and he will forge you a new destiny. He is wiser, more generous, and more powerful than you can imagine."

"As soon as I return my people safely to Silvermoon, you and I can—"

"No," Vashj said, "the gateway in the city above us is the only way to reach Illidan—but the magics that created and sustain it are fragile. Drawing on the city's ley-lines to open your own portal here below might cause the gateway that leads to Illidan to collapse. We must use the gateway above, and we must use it now."

Kael hesitated. Vashj's urgency to reach Illidan suggested that there was more to joining him than she was saying: the question was, was it better to press her on her true reasons now, or allow her to reveal them in her own time?

"You must decide quickly," Vashj said. "There is little time!"

"Side with a rogue demon…" It was, he thought, as much a matter of expediency as of trust. He had already planned to travel to Kalimdor to ask the kaldorei for their assistance against Arthas, but securing Illidan's goodwill might be useful in convincing Archdruid Stormrage and High Priestess Tyrande to help him—and if they wouldn't help, perhaps Vashj's naga would. Trusting Vashj was a risk, to be sure, but alienating her now, when she had displayed a willingness to help him, would squander a potentially valuable opportunity.

Then too, angering her might be dangerous.

"Side with a demon, or stay here and be slaughtered by those who see us as vermin?" Kael shook his head. "There is no choice here, Vashj." As little as he liked the options, having a clear path ahead was energizing. "If all my people were taken prisoner, they will be occupying cells in all four quadrants."

"The sooner we begin freeing them," Vashj said, motioning to her myrmidons, "the sooner those we free can rally the rest."

The underground prison, like the city above, was divided into quadrants. Connected by a small, elegantly tiled hub and separated by stairwells—two of which were now blocked by rubble—that led to the city above, each quadrant had expanded haphazardly over the centuries, with corridors excavated and cells built as needed.

The cell down the hall from Kael contained several elves; they crowded around him as soon as he and Vashj had opened the door. "We will fight with our bare hands if need be," one of them said fervently.

"Admirable, but unnecessary," Kael said. "Come with me. I should be able to open a storeroom on the level below. The weapons it contains are damaged, but many should be serviceable."

"We will free the remainder of the prisoners in this area, and rejoin you in the center of the prison," Vashj said.

Kael hurried to the nexus of the quadrants, where he accessed the hidden door that led to the lower level.

As they descended the stairs, Kael was shocked to see, in the dim light cast by his verdant spheres, an elf with a severely bruised and swollen face. Noting his scrutiny, the elf said stoically, "Tis nothing, my lord."

"His reward for defending Lana'thel and Sarannis from the humans," another elf said, and explained that as Kael was being led away, Garithos' lieutenants had commanded the elves to drop their weapons. Most had been taken prisoner without incident; Lana'thel, however, unwilling to let the humans take possession of Quel'Delar, had flung the sword into the lake, an action which had so angered one of Garithos' lieutenants that he had vowed to beat her into submission. This threat had sparked fights between the remaining elves and the Alliance soldiers.

"Was anyone—?"

"Killed? No."

"You have our thanks," Kael said. "Thaladred, is it not?"

"Yes, my lord."

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Happily, the storeroom was intact; Kael and the others collected as many weapons as they could carry, then hurried back up the stairs to the prison level.

As Kael and his group emerged from the hidden stairway into the center, they saw Sandoval, Navarius, and Vorath.

"Prince Kael!" Vorath said. "We knew you'd come!"

"So few…?" Had Garithos already executed his people?

"Vashj and the others are still searching the area of the dungeon we were held in," said Navarius, who had conjured several small moon spiders and sent them up to the ceiling of the domed room in order to provide a small amount of light. "We offered to be on the lookout for guards, lest they sound an alarm."

"That," Sandoval said, looking at the weapons Kael and his group carried, "is not enough to equip all our fighters."

"The storeroom below is full of weapons," Veras said. "Follow me and we'll get as many as you like."

As Veras and Sandoval led a group to retrieve more weapons, Vashj and her myrmidons emerged from the first quadrant with more elves. Kael was dismayed that Lana'thel was not among them—and then he realized that they had not yet found Capernian, Sarannis, Solarian, Malande, or indeed any of the female elves.

Vashj, who seemed to take note of Kael's expression, said only, "Will you accompany me in searching the next quadrant, Prince Kael?"

"Of course, my lady."

As they hurried through the winding corridors and crossed a small plaza-like space, Vashj paused. "There is something here," she said.

Kael glanced up at the stone ceiling. "Could you be sensing a creature above us? It is likely that Scourge still roam the ruins."

"No," Vashj said. "It's closer than that. Something that… does not belong."

All at once Kael felt it too, a cold draft of air moving across his skin, prickling and stinging like wind-blown sand or ice crystals. He thought he heard a voice— faint, at the edge of imagining—and then a pillar of light appeared in the center of the nexus. Kael knew the light meant him no harm, and so took several steps toward it, gesturing to Vashj to stay where she was. As he approached, the shimmer grew brighter and coalesced into the figure of a bearded old man wearing a skullcap and holding a simple wooden staff.

_Kael'thas? What has happened to you, my son?_

Kael gasped.

"You know this spirit?" Vashj asked. "It speaks to you?"

"Yes," Kael told her. "Archmage Antonidas. He once led this city and the Fellowship of the Kirin Tor. He was a great wizard." A wave of grief overcame him for a moment. "A good friend, murdered by the one who destroyed my people."

"The fallen Prince, Arthas," Vashj said.

 _He is here for the book, Kael'thas!_ the image of Antonidas said, reaching out a ghostly hand. _Do not allow him to take it! The archdemon he and Kel'Thuzad will summon will destroy not only Dalaran, but all of Azeroth!_

As three more shimmers appeared, Vashj spoke again. "They linger because death deprived them of carrying out an important task."

"Protecting Dalaran and its arcane knowledge," Kael said.

"When the city was destroyed," Vashj said, "they were trapped here, in the place and at the moment they failed their duty."

"The archmage mentioned a book used to summon an archdemon."

"Archimonde the Defiler," Vashj said. "Lord Illidan… contributed to his defeat."

"I must give them peace," Kael said. "Antonidas! Hear me! The demon that Kel'Thuzad summoned with stolen magic is defeated! Lay down your burdens and rest!"

 _Thank you, my son,_ the spirit of Antonidas said, and raised its hand in farewell as it faded.

Kael found himself unexpectedly moved; although he had not been able to save either his father or his old friend from Arthas's murderous blade, he took some comfort in knowing that he had brought peace to one of them.

"Shall we move on?" Vashj asked.

"Yes."

After dispatching a small group of lethargic undead, they came to another magical containment cell, which held Astalor. Like Kael, he had been imprisoned in isolation. "Have you found Rommath?" he asked as soon as Vashj and Kael had taken down the dampening wards. He pulled the affinity pendant from the collar of his robe; it was dim, but still glowing. "He yet lives, but is fading."

"We will find him," Kael said. "If you will search the remainder of this section, Vashj and I will search the rest. Tell anyone you free to collect any weapons they find and make their way to the center of the dungeon."

"As you command," Astalor said.

Tenris, Ennas, Selin, and most of the warriors that Garithos had conscripted were confined in cells in the the third quadrant, but neither Lana'thel nor Sarannis was among them.

"What have they done with them?" Vashj asked, with such ire that it confirmed what Kael had suspected: females were ascendant in naga society, and thus were valued more highly than males.

The final quadrant of the dungeon was the most damaged; they had only gone a short way down the corridor when they were stopped by a cave-in. The dungeon ceiling and walls had collapsed, making the corridor nearly impassible. Vashj lifted her head, her narrow nostrils widening as she scented the air. "There are more of your people here, beyond this obstruction. Quickly!"

While two of Vashj's sorceresses channeled an arch-like fortification, the myrmidons moved enough stones to make a narrow gap. Kael and Vashj hurried through.

A short way down the corridor, they came upon a warded cell. Inside lay Rommath, his face and hands streaked with blood. At the sound of Kael's firebolt, he opened his eyes. "Prince Kael," he whispered as Vashj bathed him with a wash of healing magic. "It's good to see you alive."

"And you, my friend," Kael said as he knelt next to Rommath and clasped his hand. He had thought that his anger at Garithos and the humans could grow no further, but the sight of his friend, left here to die a slow, agonizing death entombed in the darkness, enraged him beyond reason; had Garithos been before him at that moment, Kael would have torn into bloody shreds.

"The others?" Rommath asked.

"All but a few found and freed," Kael reassured him. "Rest here a moment while we search the remainder of the dungeon."

Vashj, who had gone further along the corridor, called to Kael. "Here she is at last." She destroyed the cell door with a cascade of lightning, then held out one of her swords to someone inside the cell. "Retrieved from the bottom of the lake. A champion should not be without her weapon."

Lana'thel stepped into the hall and took the sword from Vashj. "Quel'Delar." She bowed deeply. "Thank you, Lady Vashj."

Watching them, Kael felt a churn of emotions: relief that Lana'thel was unharmed, and gratefulness toward Vashj for retrieving Quel'Delar—but also a resurgence of the agony of knowing that he had destroyed Felo'melorn. He looked away in shame, not wanting Lana'thel to see the envy he felt.

"Is something wrong?" Lana'thel — flanked by Sarannis, Malande, and the remaining missing elves — was looking at him with concern.

"No, simply eager to be free of this place," he said, and then turned and went back to where Rommath was waiting.

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When they entered the domed room in the center of the dungeon, Astalor hurried toward Rommath, Lana'thel and Selin went to assist Sandoval in distributing weapons, and Pathaleon approached Kael and reported that everyone seemed to be accounted for.

"The wounded?"

"No one seriously," Pathaleon said. "Those that had injuries have been tended to by our healers." He glanced uneasily at Vashj, who was addressing her naga in a far corner of the room. "And hers."

"We owe them our lives," Kael said quietly.

"Yes, my prince," Pathaleon said, withdrawing with a small bow.

Kael saw that several elves were gathering around a pool of water that was bubbling up in a stone basin near the far wall. When Vashj saw Kael looking at it, she moved to stand next to him. "We created it for those who thirst," she explained, handing Kael a small metal bowl. "Use this, and drink."

"I appreciate the thought, Lady Vashj," Kael said, "but conjured water will do little to—"

"It is not conjured," Vashj replied. "It is true water. Drawn through the earth from the nearby lake."

"I see." Kael bowed. "Once again, you have my thanks." He gratefully scooped up and swallowed several mouthfuls, then passed the bowl to Selin.

As he turned, he saw that Astalor and Rommath had begun to cast a portal spell. He hurried to them. "Stop!"

"Why?" Astalor asked. "As much as I'd enjoy killing them all, there is no need for us to fight the humans in order to return to Silvermoon."

"Vashj said that drawing on Dalaran's ley-lines to open our own portal might disrupt the gateway in the city above."

"Why should we care?"

Kael put his hand on Astalor's arm. "Because it is the gateway that will take us to Illidan."

At this Astalor stopped casting and turned to face Kael. "The demon? What business have we with him?"

"He is also an ancient kaldorei of great power. Lady Vashj assures me that he knows of alternate sources of arcane energy that we could draw upon now that the Sunwell is depleted."

"So she says," Astalor shot back. "You are a fool for trusting her!"

In the silence that followed, Selin and Sarannis, their weapons drawn, quietly took up positions on either side of Kael.

"My apologies, my lord," Astalor said tightly. He turned away.

With a glance at Rommath — who looked faintly distressed — Kael returned to stand next to Vashj at the spring.

It was not long before Telonicus approached them. "Mellichar and I would like to try to sabotage the Dalaran defense system," he said. "If we can't turn it against Garithos' forces, we can at least ensure that it won't be used against us."

"An excellent idea," Kael said. "Go quickly, but be careful."

After Telonicus and Mellichar had left, Vashj said, "Your servants are impressively competent."

"As are yours." Kael wasn't sure if Vashj would be offended by being contradicted by a male — even one that she might see as her equal — but felt he needed to correct her erroneous assumption. "I don't think of my followers as servants."

"You command, they obey," Vashj said mildly, sending a sidelong glance across the room at Astalor.

"Yes, but my feelings toward them are more… paternal."

"Paternal?" She thought for a moment. "A progenitor?"

"Yes," Kael said. "I feel protective of my people, and proud when they do well. The way a father would. Or a mother," he added, thinking that this might be a better comparison.

Vashj made a soft, thoughtful sound, accompanied by the swaying movement that Kael had come to interpret as approval. Kael wondered if she was as curious about the nuances of elven society as he was about the naga, a culture which he was finding more and more fascinating.

"What are we waiting for?" Sandoval asked.

"For Telonicus and Mellichar to return."

Not long afterward, a noise came from the stairwell that led up from the center of the dungeon to the surface. An old man in battered armor came into view, holding his hands up in the universal gesture of non-aggression. "I've come to parley," he said, sounding as weary as he looked.

"Kill him before he gives the alarm," Sandoval said.

"The alarm's already been given, lad," the man said.

"I know him, Sandoval," Kael said. "This is Kassan, who once stood guard in the Kirin Tor's portal room and greeted visitors new to Dalaran."

"And now he thinks to prevent us from leaving." Sandoval took another step toward Kassan. "Allow me to kill him, my prince. It will mean one less enemy to fight up above."

"Wait," Lana'thel said. "He is unarmed, and did ask for parley." When Kael gave her an inquiring look, she came to stand next to him and added quietly, "Kassan was the one who ordered the guards to put us all in the same cell, to prevent us being taken off alone. He may be head jailor, but he seems more honorable than most."

Kael motioned to Sandoval to stand down, then said to Kassan, "I see you've received a promotion."

"And I didn't want to believe the rumors of you siding with the snakes," Kassan replied. "Take care; they're killers."

Vashj hissed.

"My options have become limited, Kassan," Kael said. "And truthfully, the naga have done more for me than Garithos has."

"Well, as much as I admire your spirit, you've gone as far as you're going to go, Prince Kael. Make it easy on yourself."

"By going back to our cells and waiting meekly for sunrise?" Kael shook his head. "You served the Kirin Tor well, Kassan, but the old order has passed away, and elves have few friends in this new Alliance. I do not wish to kill you, but my people and I are leaving this damned prison one way or another."

"It's a shame to see a good wizard gone bad," Kassan said slowly. "Still, to your credit, you're not half as bad as Kel'Thuzad."

Kael was startled: it was an odd thing for Kassan to say. "Kel'Thuzad?"

"Aye," Kassan nodded. "I didn't like him. Didn't care a whit for others. Left his experiments all over the city and up in the hills. Dangerous, it was; we had to put up warnings in the area overlooking the north and east gates." Kassan turned away from Kael and began to trudge up the steps. "Well, do what you have to do, lad."

Kael considered Kassan's words, especially in light of what the spirit of Antonidas had said. "The gateway you mentioned," he said to Vashj, "could it be in the hills outside the city?"

Vashj tilted her head; the snakes in her hair paralleled her gaze as she considered him. "For one so mistrustful of new friends and allies, you are strangely reluctant to recall trust from your enemies."

"I suppose I still think of Kassan as an old friend."

Astalor scoffed. "A friend who will send Garithos' forces to attack before we can make our escape."

"That assumes Garithos' forces know where the gateway is," Rommath said. "Kassan might not tell them."

Astalor gave him an exasperated look, but before he could say anything Lana'thel interjected, "Whether he tells them or not, they will know soon enough where we are headed."

A moment later, Telonicus and Mellichar eased themselves down through cracks in the ceiling carrying four battered metal boxes spiny with pipes and wires. "We've salvaged these from the gun turrets," Telonicus explained. "We should be able to use them to generate defensive fire."

"If they know we are free and plan to escape, why do they not rush down the stairs and attack us?" Valanar asked.

"Much more effective to wait behind barricades at the top," Sarannis explained, "and pick us off as we appear."

"Attacking from a defensive position," Vanthryn said, nodding.

"Still, we must get to the surface to use the gateway…" Kael said.

"Where is it located?" Telonicus asked.

"In the hills northeast of the city," Kael said, with a glance at Astalor, "although I could be wrong."

Vanthryn said, "I suggest we make our own exit. Use the turrets or a concentrated blast at the end of the corridor in the east quadrant to break through to the surface. Emerging near the city perimeter avoids the ambush that undoubtedly awaits us at the top of the stairs."

"The explosions will alert them to our plan!" Astalor said.

"Perhaps, but it will take them some time to realize what we've done," Vanthryn replied, "especially if they are massed near the center if the city ruins."

"It seems a reasonable plan," Kael said. "Are we in agreement?"

Pathaleon and Lana'thel nodded. Kael looked to Rommath, who looked at Astalor; Astalor shrugged, and Rommath said, "We are in agreement."

"Glad to hear it. We'd best get moving," Kael said.

As they moved into the east corridor, Vashj said, "Once we locate the gateway I will need to attune it to Lord Illidan's location."

"By then Garithos will have us under attack," Valanar pointed out.

"We will need to keep it open long enough to usher everyone though."

"Telonicus' turrets will hold them at bay," Kael assured Vashj, "and we will cast a shield over the gateway. That should buy us all the time we'll need."

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Kael hadn't been aware of it until later, but he'd braced himself for the plan to fail.

It did not. Telonicus used a pipe to direct the blast from a small fire bomb toward the ceiling at the end of the east corridor, and a moment later, when the elves and naga climbed up the rubble into the ruins near the eastern gate, none of Garithos' soldiers were there to meet them.

Vashj's sorceresses seemed to fly over the broken stone of the shattered buildings and through gaps in the city wall, presumably to search the surrounding hills.

As Telonicus set up one of the makeshift defense towers, Vashj, who had been studying a scrying-stone in her palm, said to Kael. "They have found it."

Kael looked to Telonicus, who nodded. "Almost done," he said, twisting together the ends of several wires. "I'll follow."

Several people offered to stay and guard them, but Kael shook his head. "No, get to the gateway."

The remaining elves followed Vashj and her naga across the remains of the destroyed city, through the gap that had once been the east gate, and out of sight — and not a moment too soon. There was a sound of shifting masonry, and then Kassan's weathered face rose into view, followed by a half-dozen soldiers. "Found 'em!" he shouted.

"I will handle this," Kael said to Telonicus and Navarius. "Hurry! Join the others and set up our defenses!"

Telonicus looked surprised, but he and Navarius snatched up the remaining turret boxes and sprinted away.

Kael turned back to Kassan and the soldiers, who were keeping their distance from the turret and using stone slabs as cover. "I'm disappointed in you, Kassan," Kael said.

"Just doing my duty as head jailor," Kassan said. "Chase escaped prisoners, recapture them. Dead or alive."

"You won't be successful," Kael said.

"We'll see about that." Kassan lifted his axe and held it with both hands, then nodded to the crouching soldiers, who brought their crossbows into view.

Kael called down a massive flame strike; the soldiers' screams echoed in his ears all the way to the gate.

Outside the city was a wide swathe of arid, blasted ground that had once been carpeted with flowers, and beyond it a series of low hills. As Kael ran toward where Telonicus and Navarius stood waiting at the base of the path that led up the hillside, he looked back at the city and saw an orange fireball bloom, and heard faint shouts.

"More coming!" Telonicus said. "We'll set up another turret here."

"No," Kael said. "Save it!"

There had once been a small marble pavilion nestled among the ancient trees on the hill, Kael recalled, but as he reached the top of the path he saw that the pavilion, like the buildings of the city below, was now no more than a pile of shattered stone.

Vashj's myrmidons were quickly clearing broken stone columns from a paved area that looked to have once been the pavilion's foundation, and within moments had uncovered a runic circle. In the center of the circle was a pulsing beam of blue-white energy, orbited by four glowing blue glyphic symbols.

"Yes, this is it," Vashj said. "Excellent." She and her three sorceresses gathered around the gateway and held out their hands; a moment later, narrow ribbons of light connected each naga to a now stationary glyph.

Kael, fascinated despite himself, stared at the glyphs. He had never seen such symbols before. Were they binding runes? He assumed so, if Vashj and her naga were unlocking the gateway…

Vashj, noticing his scrutiny, said sternly, "This is no time for idle scholarship, young prince!"

Abashed, Kael hurried to where Vanthryn and Lana'thel crouched at the edge of the hilltop, watching as Garithos' forces spilled from the east gate and fanned out across the area between the city and the hill.

"Must have destroyed or disabled the first turret box," Vanthryn said.

"Unfortunate that it didn't buy us more time."

"It is what it is. How close is the gateway to being operational?"

"I don't know," Kael said. "I have no experience with the type of magic Vashj is using."

As Telonicus and Navarius knelt to set up the remaining two boxes on either side of the path leading down the hill, Vanthryn said to Kael, "Garithos' forces will be here any moment. What are your orders?"

"We must protect Lady Vashj while she and her naga are completing the ritual to open the gateway," Kael said as he took up a position several paces from Vashj. "I will shield the hilltop. Make sure everyone stays near the center, away from the perimeter." He flung up the shield. "As soon as the gateway is open, get everyone through as quickly as possible."

Vanthryn asked quietly, "It'll be difficult to maintain such a large shield for long, won't it? Don't exhaust yourself, my lord; the rest of us can also defend Lady Vashj."

Kael laughed. "I maintained a shield over the entire city of Dalaran almost single-handedly for over an hour during the Second War. Shielding this hilltop is trivial."

"If you say so, my lord," Vanthryn said with a half-smile.

A moment later, one of Telonicus' turrets activated and sent a gout of flame down the hill; the retaliatory volley of arrows announced the arrival of Garithos' forces.

Kael heard Garithos shouting. "Blasted elves. I knew they'd try something like this. Forget about the damned towers—I want that portal destroyed! Those traitors aren't going anywhere. Use these explosives! Whoever destroys the portal will be a hero!"

A moment later, a barrel-bomb arced into view and crashed into the shield, then bounced to the ground and exploded, destroying one of the turrets. "Trivial," Kael murmured, glancing at the gateway.

The ribbons of light the naga had been channeling into the four blue glyphs had disappeared in a brilliant yellow flash. As the yellow light collapsed in on itself it revealed six dark violet foci; the foci spun away from each other, trailing curved tails of arcane power to form a spinning ring. The ring tilted upright; a darkness coalescing in the center as the foci became stationary and began to radiate an inscribed nimbus; a moment later the darkness at the center of the gateway began to glow with an eerie, shifting light.

"We've done it," Vashj said. "The gateway is open. Let the exodus begin!"

A second bomb took out the second turret, and then a dozen or so helmeted heads came into view.

"Quickly!" Vanthryn said.

As soon as Garithos' soldiers realized that the elves were not launching offensive attacks, they rushed the shield, slamming into it bodily and slashing at it with pikes and swords.

Rommath appeared next to Kael and asked softly, "Shall I send them our regards?"

"Of course," Kael replied.

"With pleasure." With a grim smile, Rommath began to cast a series of precisely-targeted fireballs that drove Garithos' soldiers back down the hill and out of sight.

Kael glanced around; everyone but himself, Rommath, Astalor, and Vashj had gone.

"Get out of here," Kael said to Rommath and Astalor. "That's an order."

"What about you?" Astalor asked as he took a reluctant Rommath by the arm.

"I will follow," Kael said; a moment later he heard the two go through the gateway.

"Now young prince," Vashj said to him, "take one final step… towards destiny."

Kael considered his options. Garithos' soldiers had returned, but instead of attacking they now simply stood and stared at him — and then he saw the crossbows. The moment he stopped channeling the shield and made for the gateway they would fill his back with iron-tipped arrows.

"Kael, everyone is through!" Vashj urged. "Fall back and we'll close the gateway behind us!"

Well, if he was to die here at least he would die knowing he'd managed to get his people to safety. Astalor and Rommath would take up the task of seeking vengeance upon Arthas, and, if Illidan was indeed as powerful and wise as Vashj claimed, many elves would be eager to learn from him.

"Why do you hesitate?" Vashj demanded, placing herself between Kael and the soldiers. "I will scatter these mice for you."

"I— just go, Vashj."

The snakes on her head, normally in constant motion, stopped suddenly. "Something monstrous is coming!" she said, looking skyward.

"Go!" Kael shouted.

With an angry hiss, Vashj turned and entered the gateway.

Garithos and his war stallion crested the hill. "Don't let him escape! Bring him to me dead or alive!" Garithos ordered.

Kael was about to turn and dive for the gateway when several soldiers pointed toward the sky and began to run, shoving past each other in a panic. Garithos wheeled his horse and galloped down the hill out of sight as a cascade of flame poured from the sky and over his men.

Kael looked up. There was a fiery form in the sky directly above him, an undulating blaze of gold with tapering flames pulsing from either side. A thin dark line stretched across it; as Kael watched, the line became larger and larger — and then he realized that the line was an object falling toward him. Startled, he stopped channeling and reached out to catch it. It was a sword… it was… Felo'melorn, and it was whole. He heard a shrill cry above him. He looked up to see the fire falling toward him - no, not falling, _flying._

It was a bird of flame. A phoenix.

There were legends of Dath'Remar's immortal familiar, a creature of unwavering loyalty called forth with long-forgotten magics, but it had not been seen in Quel'Thalas since its master's death millennia before. There was a sudden fierceness in Kael's chest, a sense of kinship, both with the ancestor he had so long admired and with this glorious creature. He knew, with absolute certainty, that the gem created by his transformation in the Grove had not been a gem at all, but an egg, an egg that had hatched in the blaze that had mended Felo'melorn; he knew this as surely as if he had been there when the new-born phoenix rose from the ashes with the Sunstrider sword in its talons. Kael and the phoenix belonged to each other, a bond that would transcend death itself.

The phoenix hatchling's slow wingbeats held it in position above and slightly in front of Kael, so close he could have touched one of its radiant tail feathers. It sent another blast of fire down the hill at the soldiers, then threw its head back and crowed in triumph.

Kael held his arm out, and the phoenix flew to him, perching like a falcon, blazing without burning, and then they turned their backs on the Eastern Kingdoms and stepped forward into the unknown.

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_Next Chapter: Outland and Illidan_

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_ Chapter first posted 22 August 2015; rev 2 Dec 2016 _


	13. The Observation Grounds (Delrissa), Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freed by Lady Vashj, Kael and his people escape to Outland, rescue Illidan from Maiev, learn new techniques for supplementing their need for magical power, and mount an offensive against Magtheridon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based on the final chapters of the Alliance Campaign in _Warcraft III: The Frozen Throne,_ from "Interlude, the Dusts of Outland" to "Finale: Kil'jaeden's Command."

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~ : |13| : ~

_Oh, the horror!_

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You lose one, she loses one.

Developing new alliances is like that, isn't it? A dance of trust, a matter of give and take, oscillating between admiration and reprobation.

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He had gone blindly into the gateway, had not known the world Vashj was taking him to, or what would soon unfold. If he had known, if he had refused that path, called his people back and retreated to Silvermoon, how different it all would have been… but such speculation was pointless. His people had gone through, and so he was bound to follow them.

He emerged through the portal to see worried faces—which quickly warmed with relief and then with amazement as they saw Kael and the phoenix.

"Dath'Remar's divine companion," Rommath said reverently. _" 'Al'ar, wingéd avatar of fire / Born of ash and sorrow, arising to glory.'_ How is this possible?"

"I am not certain," Kael said. "It drove Garithos' forces from the gateway." It was then that he began to take in his surroundings. He stood on a broad dais of stone; below him, down a flight of massive stone steps, Vashj and her naga waited—and beyond them, a hellish world. An arid landscape the color of dried blood stretched away in every direction. Nothing interrupted the barrenness except fissures and occasional boulders. The very air itself seemed to resent the presence of the living: swirling and stinging the skin with red grit, it stank of brimstone, burnt hair, and charred flesh. "What a desolate place," he murmured.

Lana'thel touched his shoulder. "Yes, but look up at the sky."

Kael did so, and was struck with amazement. Against a background of rich greenish black, three mottled spheres — other worlds? — gathered close as if curious about the newcomers. A distant star glowed dimly, pale ribbons of moonlight waved like undersea fronds, and through it all, strangely beautiful, a band of golden light streamed, a celestial river promising to carry the weary away to a place of comfort and wonder.

Kael was still admiring the sky when he heard Lana'thel gasp. "How — where did you find it?"

He looked at her, and realized that she meant Felo'melorn; he'd almost forgotten that he was holding it. "The phoenix brought it to me," he said. "The phoenix Al'ar."

As if in response the phoenix stretched and spread its wings, then with a single strong beat launched into the air and flew out of sight.

"Where is it going?" Rommath looked worried.

"It will return," Kael said, and he knew it to be true.

He lifted the sword and examined it. It looked as if the shard of odd black metal he'd placed as a support under the broken halves of the blade had melted and been drawn into the break as a solder, repairing the sword almost perfectly. The fine black line of the join was barely visible.

"How does it feel?" Lana'thel asked as Kael made a few experimental swipes with the sword.

"Different. Better." Kael had the strange —but not unwelcome — thought that Felo'melorn, which had previously rejected him because he was not Anasterian, had now given him its blessing and become truly his.

A moment later, the crowd of elves parted as Vashj ascended the stairs.

"Where are we, Vashj?" Kael asked her.

"This shattered world is called Outland, young prince." she explained. "It is all that remains of Draenor, the former homeland of the orcish Horde."

"Amazing. I remember when Khadgar led the Alliance Expedition here, years ago in an attempt to wipe the orcs out for good."

"Yes. The inhabitants opened a number of massive dimensional gateways, but all they succeeded in doing was tearing the planet apart… and now, amongst the ruins of this dead world, we have come to find the master."

"Illidan… why is he here? What could possibly interest him in this barren wasteland?"

"That I do not know." Vashj paused. "Regardless, we should seek him out quickly."

"Agreed." Kael knew that there was more to the situation than Vashj had yet said. "I am eager to speak with Illidan. If he can truly show my people new sources of magic, I will gladly pledge myself to his service." Kael was not certain that he was correctly interpreting Vashj's tone as one of anxiety, but the urgency that she had expressed in the dungeon was certainly still present. "Forgive me, my lady,' he said carefully, "but you speak as though you do not know where Lord Illidan is."

Vashj considered him. "You know of the warden Maiev Shadowsong?"

"Yes. I met her in Silverpine when she was searching for Illidan there." Four days… had it really been only four days ago?

"Then you know of her animosity toward him. She and her warriors followed him here and have taken him captive."

Ah, the missing piece. "How can you be certain? Perhaps he has eluded them."

Vashj shook her head. "No, he was taken," she said. "I can sense his distress."

"He is still alive?" Kael asked, recalling how Maiev had pronounced a death sentence on Illidan in Dalaran.

"Yes, although wounded. Maiev will not kill him here. She no doubt plans to take him back to the kaldorei lands, so that all can glory in the spectacle of his execution." Vashj's contempt was scalding.

"You freed us so that we would help you rescue him," Kael said, a statement of fact rather than a question.

Vashj was silent for a moment before she answered. "Your sense of honor makes you feel indebted to me, but it is also true that Lord Illidan and I recognize a solidarity with you. We three are distant kindred; seeing you and your people misunderstood, ill-treated, and imprisoned was intolerable to us. He bid me bring you to him so that he might share his great knowledge." If there was more to what she was saying, she hid it well.

No matter; Kael was confident that, given time and trust, Vashj would reveal all. For now, she needed his help to find and free Illidan, and he intended to give it—if for no other reason than that in the past few days Vashj had treated him with ten times more respect and honesty than Garithos' Alliance ever had.

He looked out at the elves Vashj had freed. All had endured insult, privation, and even prison as a result of their loyalty to him. Many he'd only met during the early days of fighting the plague in Lordaeron; others were elves he'd known for a hundred years or more. Most he considered friends; some he almost as close to as he had been to Eldin. Was it fair, was it right, to ask them once again to risk their lives in his service?

"We escaped Garithos' tyranny thanks to the intervention of Lady Vashj," he said to them at last, "and have come to this strange world, not just to aid our new allies, but to once again become the sole guardians of our destiny." Kael saw their pride and determination, but there was uncertainty on some faces as well.

"I will not lie to you," he continued. "We will face new challenges here, and many more uncertainties. The dangers are likely to be greater as well." He allowed this to sink in for a moment before he went on. "Because of this, we will not judge any of you who wish to return to Quel'Thalas, to work there to rebuild our cities and heal the land and our people. If, however, you would rather stride into the unknown… follow us." With this Kael descended the stairs.

When he reached the bottom, he looked back. Not a single elf had remained near the gateway.

.

With no visible footprints or hoof-marks in the hard-packed red earth and nothing on the horizon, the task of finding Illidan before his captors took him back to Kalimdor seemed impossible. Vanthryn and Luthion, for once in agreement, suggested that they spread out in a long line, scanning the ground for any clue about the direction that Illidan or his captors had taken. Luckily, it was not long before they came across the faint tracks of a wagon, which at last led to an encampment hidden in the shadows of a forbiddingly craggy escarpment.

Veras and Sarannis did reconnaissance while Vashj, Kael, and their troops waited out of sight on a cliff high above.

"Kaldorei," Veras reported. "Two guards, three wounded. It's barely an encampment; no tents, few provisions other than a small stockpile of plants they're applying to wounds."

"Maiev hadn't planned on coming here," Kael said. "She expected to capture Illidan in Silverpine."

"She has him now," Selin said. "Do we wait for them to return here, or do we continue searching?"

"Continue searching," Vashj said.

Vanthryn nodded. "I agree. The sooner we find Illidan the better. Maiev may very well decide to kill him before returning to her camp if he becomes troublesome."

"Let us hope that will not be the case."

Vashj tilted her head. "His thoughts are subdued, unformed… as if he has been drugged."

"Can't your connection to him point us in his general direction?" asked Keleseth.

"A spiritual bond," Vashj replied, "is not a compass."

"Maiev didn't have more than a dozen fighters with her," Kael interjected. "As we have several times that number, some of us can remain here to watch the camp" — Kael could see that the naga were suffering in the desert even more than the elves were, their scaly skin drying out and cracking — "while the rest of us continue the search."

"We will need to find water soon," Pathaleon said. "Unless the naga can pull some from the earth the way they did in the dungeon?"

Vashj conversed rapidly with her sorceresses, then said, "There is water to the north, but it will take time to coax to our location."

"Then we must find Illidan quickly," Kael said, "before we succumb to thirst."

Sandoval volunteered to remain with the naga to watch the camp; Veras, Tae'thelan, and a few others who had not fared well in the punishing Outland climate joined him. The remaining elves split into three groups and resumed their search.

Once they were out of sight of the camp, Theraldis — who along with Lana'thel, Selin, Thaladred and Valanar had joined Kael's group — murmured, "The naga will rush the camp and kill the night elves while we are gone."

Kael sighed; the same thought had occurred to him. "We would have had to fight them at some point, Theraldis. I doubt they will hand Illidan over simply because we ask politely."

.

The fruitless hours passed quickly, with no sign of Maiev or Illidan. To no one's surprise, when they returned they found Sandoval's group and the naga occupying the night elf camp.

"We were detected," Sandoval said, glancing quickly at Vashj. "We had to defend ourselves or be slain."

"And the wounded?" Kael asked.

"They were not nearly as helpless as they appeared," Vashj said smoothly. "Had the situation had been reversed, the night elves would not have shown mercy."

"Where are the bodies of the slain?" Atherann asked. "We can at least give them a respectful burial."

"What was not useful has been discarded," Vashj said.

Useful? Kael was about to ask for details when — "We found this," Veras said as he lifted the lid of a small wooden box. "Hidden behind a rock at the back of the camp."

"Translocation orb," Rommath said as he peered inside the box. "Presumably for Kalimdor. It can be modified for Silvermoon."

Freywinn came forward, stealing a nervous glance at the naga as he passed them. "The spiny plants growing at the base of the cliff contain a surprising amount of moisture. Vashj's myrmidons consumed them with no ill effects, so they might be safe for us as well."

"That is good news, and useful to know," Kael said. "Though I do not expect we will be here long."

.

The passage of time was difficult to gauge. The Outland sky was dark, but its celestial objects shed so much light that it could it could hardly be considered night.

And so they continued to search for Illidan and Maiev. Vashj's naga located a canyon with coaxable water, and Al'ar periodically brought back the bodies of large worm-like poison-spitters and dropped them just outside the camp. At first, watching the myrmidons tear the corpses apart and devour them raw, entrails and all, caused many of the elves to lose their appetite — but with starvation the only other option, after a while even Kael forced himself to partake of roasted worm meat. After all, conjured food merely dulled hunger; it did not sustain the body's exertions.

On what some claimed was the third day after their arrival, Navarius sighted a dust cloud on the horizon. Kael and Vashj, guessing that it was Maiev and her wardens heading back to their camp, moved to a low rock range along the night elves' path. The night elves were dragging a wagon; in the wagon was a large cage, and in the cage was Illidan, bound with heavy chains. Rune inscribed parchment covered his mouth and throat.

Vashj gripped her bow, and her snakes writhed in agitation. "Maiev will pay…"

"Is it at all possible that she can be reasoned with?" Kael asked.

"No. Diplomacy is a waste of time!"

"Based on my prior experience with her, I agree," Kael said, "but at least a discussion will alert Illidan to our presence."

"He already knows I am here," Vashj said, then made an abrupt gesture. "Do what you must, but be on your guard."

"I will." Kael teleported down from the rocks and into the wagon's path.

Almost instantly he felt the rush of displaced air as one of Maiev's wardens slipped behind him, and he reflexively shielded himself.

"Wait!" Maiev said, then signalled her wardens to stop. "Prince Kael'thas." Her tone made it clear that she had not forgiven him for keeping her hostage to Malfurion's vines. "Shan'do Stormrage sent you."

"No, he did not," Kael replied. "I have come of my own accord. Illidan has information vital to the survival of my people."

Maiev's laughter was derisive.

"Can we not resolve this peacefully, without bloodshed?"

"You and the snakes? Without bloodshed?" She took a step toward Kael. "What of the blood that has already been shed? I can smell the blood of my wardens on them! And Illidan… Illidan reeks with the deaths of _hundreds._ "

"I have no wish to spill more elven blood, Maiev, but look around you. You and your wardens are outnumbered ten to one. Allow me to take custody of Illidan, and you may have safe passage back to Kalimdor."

"Enough! Blood Elves and Naga! Your bastard races are an affront to everything the night elves stand for! Death to all who side with the Betrayer!" Maiev twisted her body, swirling her cloak and sending a deadly arc of small needle-like daggers flashing toward Kael; an instant later she was gone, the place where she had stood bombarded with Vashj's arrows and naga frostbolts.

"Kill all but Maiev!" Vashj shouted from the cliff top as her myrmidons slithered down with tridents flashing. "Her death belongs to Lord Illidan!"

Kael's forces rushed from the cover of the rocks an instant later, adding blades and firebolts to the fray.

Drawing the last of the power from his verdant spheres to shield as many as possible from the kaldorei poisons and blades, Kael once again regretted that it had come to slaughter, but what other option had there been? Taking prisoners would not have been feasible even if the wardens had not been determined to fight to the death.

As it was, for a while it seemed as though Maiev herself might take them all out before she was subdued. She fought like a force of nature, moon sword flashing as she leapt past Vashj's charging myrmidons, slitting throats and flinging poison, dodging firebolts, at one point seemingly running up the blade of a sword to leap over its wielder. Ultimately, however, the naga frostbolts took their toll, finally slowing her enough that one of Vashj's arrows pierced her boot and pinned her foot to the ground. Thus snared, the warden was beaten down by three of Vashj's myrmidons and disarmed of her weapon and thorn-shouldered cloak. "You will regret not killing me!" she raged as the naga removed her armored breastplate and bound her arms behind her back, then removed her helm and boots and stripped her down to her linen shirt and leggings.

Vashj, meanwhile, had hurried to break open Illidan's cage. Ferocious moments before, she removed the silencing glyphs from his mouth and throat with gentle care, then unwound his chains and helped him from the cage as she healed his wounds.

"I think it is time," Illidan said as he stretched his wings, "that my jailor had a taste of captivity."

The naga dragged Maiev to where Illidan stood next to the cage. Illidan put one clawed hand around her neck and pulled her to her feet. "Do not worry, little warden," he said, his voice low and chilling, "I will only do to you _some_ of what you did to me." Still gripping her throat, he lifted her up and threw her into the cage.

Even from this distance, Kael could see the trickles of blood on Maiev's throat where Illidan's claws had dug into her skin.

Illidan turned to Vashj and said mildly, "Your rescue was most timely. The thought of spending another ten thousand years in Maiev's prison was not a pleasant one."

" _That…_ is our new ally?" Astalor asked. "The reason we are in this hellish desert, instead of in Silvermoon, where we belong?"

Kael glanced at him. While Selin and a handful of others were watching Illidan with undisguised curiosity and even interest, most of the others had expressions ranging from confusion to disbelief to disgust. Only Freywinn, Lana'thel, and Thaladred seemed indifferent. "After ten thousand years of imprisonment," Kael said, "I imagine the prospect of going back into captivity would cause even the most civilized being to have a violent reaction."

"We could not forsake you, Lord Illidan," Vashj was saying. "But you owe your freedom to them."

"A civilized being?" Astalor scoffed.

"When when we first saw him in Dalaran," Kael said quietly to Astalor, "he and Vashj's naga were performing a ritual to destroy Arthas' Scourge master in Northrend. He shares our goals, Astalor, and has ancient knowledge that he's willing to share with us."

"He showed affection for his brother, the archdruid," Freywinn added. "And genuine concern for the High Priestess of Elune."

Astalor looked at Freywinn, exasperated. "And you expect me to believe that those actions were more representative of his true self than what we've just witnessed?"

Kael was not so sure he wanted to argue the point, and so he turned and walked toward Illidan and Vashj.

"Who are they, Vashj?" Illidan was saying. "The young elf looks familiar, but…"

"They call themselves the blood elves," Vashj said. "They are the last mortal descendants of the Highborne who served you long ago. This is Prince Kael'thas," Vashj said to Illidan as Kael came closer. "He and his brethren have come to bask in your wisdom — and pledge themselves to your will."

"Indeed?"

When he had first encountered Illidan, Kael had found himself mildly intrigued by the idea of a half-demonic elf, but events in Silverpine had moved so quickly that he hadn't had time to learn more. Now, Kael found Illidan both more impressive and more frightening than he had seemed at first glance. It was not just Illidan's sheer size—even with his wings furled, he loomed over naga and elf alike — but the _power_ he radiated, a palpable emanation which, like the enormous, back-curving horns that marred his brow, was both mesmerizing and faintly repellent. As he got closer, Kael saw that the green markings on Illidan's skin, which he had taken to be tattoos, were actually scars, as if magic had literally gouged and burned into the flesh. Most eerie of all was the glow that was visible even through the thick cloth of Illidan's blindfold: what was it? Some horror that required hiding?

"Vashj said that you could teach my people to draw upon new sources of magic," Kael said. "After the Sunwell was extinguished, a few of us were able to draw upon the ley-lines of Quel'Thalas, but for those with no mage training it is impossible."

"Sunwell… tell me of this Sunwell."

"A font of arcane energy," Kael said, "created by my ancestor Dath'Remar Sunstrider —"

"Ah, so that's what he did with it," Illidan said. "Ironic, is it not, Vashj? The 'crime' for which I was imprisoned brought Dath'Remar glory, and enabled him to found a dynasty! But go on; this Sunwell of yours—you say it has been extinguished?"

"Yes. After being befouled by Arthas Menethil, the Sunwell began to poison our people. We could not cleanse it, so we destroyed it."

"I see… so we have a common enemy. Arthas, servant of the Lich King." Illidan smiled and turned to Vashj. "Do you see, Vashj? The radiance of his anger? The raw, all-consuming _hunger?"_

"Yesss."

Kael found their scrutiny vaguely humiliating, as if he were a item being appraised at an auction by eager buyers, but he accepted that their vision of what drove him was true.

"You were right to come to me, Kael," Illidan said, "I share the pain of your addiction — your hunger for magic. Millennia ago my own people, and Vashj's, suffered a similar loss, and struggled then as you are struggling now."

"Can you help us?"

"There is no cure, young one. But there are ways to feed the hunger. Follow me, and I will grant your people more magic than they can imagine."

Kael turned to look at the assembled elves. There was still doubt on some faces, but most now seemed more accepting.

"So be it," Kael said, and, holding up Felo'melorn, he went down on one knee. "Lord Illidan, my fellow blood elves and I humbly pledge ourselves to your service."

"Then arise, young Kael," Illidan said expansively. "You shall be my right hand and the harbinger of my wrath."

.

The night elf camp, though minimal, did have strategic advantages. Illidan and Kael accompanied Vashj to the camp — her myrmidons pulling the wagon containing Maiev's cage — while Atherann and a half-dozen elves stayed behind to bury the fallen wardens.

On the way, Illidan explained his plans. "Many months after the Legion's defeat at the Battle of Mount Hyjal," he said, "I was visited by one of the last great demon lords — Kil'jaeden. In the past I had been an ally to the Burning Legion; but, by aiding the kaldorei in their battle against the dreadlord Tichondrius, I had sealed the Legion's defeat in this world.

"To my surprise, rather than descending to punish me, Kil'jaeden came to me with an offer: his creation, the Lich King, had broken the pact that bound him to Kil'jaeden's will. He further explained that the Lich King's spirit lay trapped inside the Frozen Throne of Icecrown, and promised that if I destroyed the Frozen Throne and the Lich King, he would grant me my heart's desire."

"And you trusted the word of this demon?" Kael did not try to keep the edge from his voice.

Illidan eyed Kael. "Demons can be trustworthy… to a point." Illidan took a deep breath and then looked away. "As it was, I had very little choice. One does not refuse the Great One.

"At Dalaran, I attempted to use the Eye of Sargeras to melt away the polar icecaps surrounding the Icecrown Glacier. If the spell had succeeded, the Lich King would have been vanquished forever."

"But the cursed night elves intervened," Vashj interjected.

"And the spell went awry," Illidan continued. "Given my failure, I fled to this desolate place to evade Kil'jaeden's wrath. Now, if I am to remain here in exile, we will need to ensure that Kil'jaeden's agents have been cleaned from the land."

"Kil'jaeden's agents are here?" Why had Illidan fled to this place, then? It seemed the worst possible choice, but on further thought it occurred to Kael that perhaps it was clever after all: go to a place your enemy thought you would avoid.

"Long ago, after Draenor's explosion, a brutal Pit Lord named Magtheridon rallied the surviving orcs and took control of Outland." Illidan said. "Since then, his forces have grown strong."

"How? If most of the orcs were killed when this world exploded, how has he bolstered his ranks?"

"By using the very portals that tore the planet apart. Many of Ner'zhul's dimensional gates still stand, young prince. Magtheridon lures scores of hapless demons through them daily."

Kael nodded. "Then we must seal them permanently."

"Yes. We will seek out each of the gates; once they have been sealed, we will move against Magtheridon himself, and claim Outland as our own."

"Lord Illidan," Kael said. "Before we begin that task, perhaps you could grant us some of the magic you promised?"

"Were I possessed of a suspicious nature," Illidan said wryly, "I would think you did not trust me to keep my word!"

 _Of course I do not trust you. You are a demon._ "My people and I would be much more effective against Magtheridon if we were empowered. And it would be simple to recruit more of our brethren to join us here if we could show them proof of our new source of magic."

"Your point _is_ well made," Illidan nodded. "It is settled. I shall teach you."

"When?"

"Now. Here." He looked at Vashj; some unspoken communication seemed to pass between them, and she and her naga continued on toward the camp with the cage as the blood elves gathered around Illidan and Kael.

"I have the ability to see the essence of magic itself," Illidan said as he motioned to his blindfolded eyes. "I can see it in the rivers flowing across the heavens, and glowing dimly in the gems you wear and the weapons you carry. I see it in ancient tomes and in living beings. In each of you." He turned his head toward Kael. "I saw its ebb and flow during the battle just now, in the spells you cast, as certain of your mages drew upon energy stored in crystals the way that they had previously tapped the lines of magical energy in your homeland."

Kael, slightly nonplussed that Illidan had saw fit to indirectly reveal this detail, smiled faintly as Rommath and Astalor glanced at him.

"You may think that only those with years of training can perform such feats, but I assure you, that is not true. All that is necessary is the memory of your Sunwell — and your knowledge that, if you are to survive and prosper, you need to learn to identify and draw upon other sources of magical energy."

"What other sources?" Astalor asked.

"Artifacts… and when necessary, lesser creatures."

"Feed off their life force?" someone asked, sounding appalled. There was general agitated murmuring.

"Do you not kill animals and eat their flesh in order to sustain your own body?" Illidan asked. "Is consuming their essence in order to sustain your spirit so very different?"

Kael could understand their reaction to some extent; while he was grateful to the demon for his apparent willingness to help the sin'dorei and share his undeniable power and knowledge, he was oddly relieved to know that he was not the only one who felt that there was something troubling, even faintly repugnant, about Illidan's suggestion.

"There are vast stores of magical energy that will be yours for the taking once Magtheridon no longer controls Outland," Illidan said, placating, "but until he is defeated, think of this as… an interim method to sate your hunger. I assure you, once you come into your true power you will have no need for such unrefined practices." He seemed puzzled. "Is there no one who wishes to learn?"

"I will," Kael said. He didn't see any other way to overcome his people's reservations — or his own, for that matter.

Selin and Zerevor stepped forward as well. "For Quel'Thalas!" Pathaleon, Thaladred, and Malande joined them a moment later.

"There are not many animals in this barren land," Illidan said, "but I am certain that I can find something suitable."

.

Illidan returned a short time later with a spiny, three-legged animal in each hand. The vicious creatures struggled and thrashed and snapped their jaws and made hideous screeching sounds.

"I have no problem draining the essence from _that,_ " Malande said with a laugh. "Horrible, ugly thing."

"Let us begin," Illidan said once the six elves had lined up before him. "Close your eyes," he said. "Reach out with your mind."

Kael, feeling ridiculous but aware that all would look to him to set the example, closed his eyes.

"Sense the energy coiled within the creature."

Illidan's voice, when separated from his unsettling appearance, was actually quite pleasant.

"Have you found it?"

Kael suspected it was primarily due to the hypnotic quality of Illidan's voice, but he did in fact feel as though he could see a small red spark, could almost hear the hidden heartbeat.

"Have you found it?" Illidan asked again, his voice now an urgent whisper.

Kael found himself nodding.

"Know that that spark is _yours,"_ Illidan said. "Yours, if only the creature would give it. Yours, if only you had the courage to claim it. Will you be denied? No! Reach out with your hand, with your mind, and _take_ what is yours. Pull the energy to you… yes… yes… good…"

The screeching noises faded, and Kael felt a pleasurable sensation spiral outward from the center of his abdomen, a pulse that culminated at the crown of his head and left him slightly breathless.

He opened his eyes and looked at the other five; they looked as astonished as he felt.

"Very good," Illidan said, tossing what was left of the two ravagers aside. "Select the next six students while I acquire more practice animals." He turned, unfolded his wings, and began to crouch, but instead of leaping into the air he turned and asked Thaladred, "Have we have met before, young one? Something about you is familiar."

Thaladred, taken aback, shook his head. "That's not possible, Lord Illidan. I surely would have remembered meeting one such as you." He hesitated. "Perhaps you are thinking of Freywinn? Some say we look nearly as alike as twins."

"Ah yes, just so. That must be it."

As soon as Illidan had flown out of sight, the elves who had not participated in the draining gathered close, eagerly listening to Zerevor and Malande's attempts to describe the sensations.

"What was it like?" Lana'thel asked Kael.

"Surprising," he said. "Much… _warmer_ than drawing energy from ley-lines. More physical. It's difficult for me to explain; I don't have Lord Illidan's skill with words." He was slightly abashed about admitting to her that he had found the process enjoyable.

Lana'thel was better at reading him than he had realized, however, for the corner of her mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "Oh." She laughed softly. "That should make it easier to win approval."

As Illidan trained the rest of the elves on the draining technique, Kael surreptitiously began transferring his excess magical energy into the verdant spheres. This took some time, as he was replete.

He had fallen into a reverie when he was startled by Illidan's voice.

"May I see one?" Illidan stood with his clawed hand outstretched.

"See?"

"If you don't mind?"

"Ah." As a dozen or so elves looked on, Kael handed one of the verdant spheres to Illidan. Kael knew the flutter of trepidation he felt was probably unwarranted, but then again Illidan had put him on the spot twice, first by revealing Kael's use of the mooncrystals, and now by making his request to examine them so public.

"The Eye of Jennala," Illidan said as he waved his free hand over the sphere to dismiss the green fire and reveal the mooncrystal at its heart. "This is astonishing. Quite advanced for an enchanter of your level." He handed the crystal back, and then added in a lighter tone, as if worried he'd given offense, "Ingenious, in fact. And the alignment of the spheres along your aura — an abjuration variant? Most impressive. Your people clearly have retained a great deal of your Highborne ancestors' innate natural talent. Who taught you how to handle latent magical energies so effectively?"

"It was an extension of my research into the transfer and storage of magical energy," Kael said. "My mentor, Telestra, had taught me that at its core all magical energy is the same, and that its various manifestations are merely tinted by its container and wielder."

"Very perceptive," Illidan said, nodding. Kael could not tell if he was still being patronizing or not.

"Can _you_ teach us the transfer process?" Zerevor asked Illidan.

"I would," Illidan said apologetically, "but unfortunately crystals with the appropriate matrix are very rare in this land."

"What sort of matrix?" Telonicus asked.

"Any type of arcane crystal will do."

Rommath looked at Astalor. Astalor shrugged, then both he and Rommath pulled their affinity pendants from beneath the collars of their robes. "Like these?" Rommath asked, handing the pendants to Illidan.

Kael was about to protest, but Astalor said, "Attuning new gems is easily done. This is a far more important use for them."

"Oh yes," Illidan said after a moment, "these will be more than adequate. Harmonic, yet with singular imperfections." He closed his fist; when he opened it, the gems of both pendants had been crushed into pale blue slivers.

Astalor turned to look at the other elves, and folded his arms, waiting. After a moment, several sheepishly handed over their own pendants.

As Astalor and Rommath handed out the crystal slivers, Illidan began the lesson. "This will be the inverse of the technique you used before," he said. "As extracting essence is akin to desire, to wanting and taking, transferring magical energy that you hold within yourself is akin to selfless love, that gives without reservation. Are you ready to begin?"

The crowd of elves nodded.

"Hold the crystal loosely, and think of your beloved, or someone you once loved," Illidan said. "Think not of the hunger you had for them, the selfish need you had to pull them to you and possess them, but instead the yearning you had to kneel humbly at their feet, to pour your very soul into their wounds, to press gentle kisses upon their brow. Focus upon your willingness to sacrifice everything to fight by their side, the torments you would have endured to keep them safe from harm and sorrow."

There were several sharp intakes of breath among the crowd, and a barely audible half-sob from someone. Kael could understand it; he too had been moved by the memories stirred up by the poetry of Illidan's speech.

"Once you have recalled those feelings," Illidan said softly, "that exquisite pain, gather it up and place it in the center of the crystal." He opened his hand: the sliver he held, once pale blue, was now yellow-green and faintly luminous.

A moment later the elves began to open their hands as well, and, like Illidan's, each crystal had transformed.

_._

"One final lesson," Illidan said after Atherann and the burial detail had rejoined them. "You have all done well, but before I judge you ready to face the demons coming through the dimensional portal — demons who will fight the extraction — I suggest you practice on me. Who wishes to be in the first group?"

As Kael moved forward Rommath stepped in front of him. "No, I will be the student this time. The creature was different; there was little danger." For the first time in a long time, Rommath was meeting Kael's gaze, unflinching.

 _My first friend in Dalaran, the silent partner of the social club's success,_ Kael thought. He recalled the night Rommath had played _Dirge for the Fallen_ — how sadly prescient that had been — and the night he had made his painful confession. He recalled too Rommath's appearance near the Grove, his thoughtful counsel, his unwavering support. Kael smiled faintly because, after all these years, Rommath still used the antique hair clasp, and still would not talk about his family. "I do not wish to risk you, either," Kael said at last.

"Your concern means more to me than you know," Rommath said quietly, "but please allow me to do this. For you. For Quel'Thalas."

Kael looked past Rommath to Astalor, who nodded once.

"I will allow it," Kael said.

Rommath took his place, followed by Selin, Zerevor, and Pathaleon. Malande and Thaladred ceded their spots to Sarannis and Sandoval, and the six lined up before Illidan.

"This will not be as simple as draining the skittering creature," Illidan said. "Many demons are intelligent; some have magical defenses. They will resist you. You will need to fight to assert your superiority." The markings on his chest and arms seemed to pulse with a dim light. "You may begin. Do not hold back; you cannot harm me. I have nearly limitless power."

The six held out their hands and closed their eyes, frowning in concentration.

Sandoval was the first to succeed, gasping in surprise. A moment later Sarannis began to smile. Next to her, Zerevor was ecstatic, Pathaleon looked puzzled, Selin frowned, and Rommath… Rommath, his eyes closed, his hand outstretched, was as still and silent as a statue.

"Once you have seized the power drink it down in a single draught!" Illidan urged. "Do not be timid, lest it rebound and choke you!"

After a moment everyone but Rommath stepped back, staggering a little.

"That's enough, little one," Illidan said after a moment, reaching out to shake Rommath's shoulder.

Instantly Rommath's head snapped back and he began to shudder, opening his mouth in a soundless scream. A blinding red light appeared under Illidan's hand, rippling and forking across Rommath's body like scarlet lightning.

"Stop!" Astalor shouted as he shoved Illidan away. He and Kael eased Rommath to the ground; the dark-haired mage was drenched in blood; not only from what streamed from his ears and nose, but seemingly from the fabric of his robe.

As Malande knelt near Rommath's head and worked to stop the bleeding, Veras held out his daggers to Astalor, but Astalor had already torn open Rommath's robe. Beneath the blood-soaked fabric, an angular web of blood covered Rommath's shoulders, upper arms, and chest. Astalor whirled to glare at the swirling green scars on Illidan's chest and arms. "What did you do to him? Did you make him like you?"

Rommath groaned then, and his eyelids fluttered open. His eyes were a sickly, glowing green.

"Those markings… are not my doing," Illidan said, sounding genuinely bewildered. "He simply drew magic from me, the same as the others did." Illidan paused. "In truth, he drew it very adeptly." He gave a vague excuse about needing to assist Vashj at the night elf camp and hurried off.

Someone had a canteen with non-conjured water; Malande and Astalor propped Rommath up so that he could drink from it.

"It can't be healed?" Kael asked Malande, watching as she wiped the blood from the dark red lines reticulating Rommath's chest and arms.

"They may look like blood magic eruptions," she said, "but they're not wounds."

Rommath said weakly, "It doesn't hurt."

Astalor made an exasperated sound. "Incisions that extensive? It's ten times more than I've ever spilled."

"My magic will be stronger than yours now," Rommath teased.

"Hardly." Astalor sounded annoyed, but Kael noticed how he shifted slightly so that his body shaded Rommath's face. "You must be fine, since you're back to acting like a reckless idiot."

Rommath laughed. "Ironic, coming from you."

In contrast to Rommath, the others — whose eyes had also developed a fainter version of Rommath's greenish glow — proclaimed that they had not felt so energetic since before the invasion; even Pathaleon, who had seemed not to draw any energy from Illidan, admitted to feeling "somewhat revitalized."

Although a few elves were disappointed they would not get to practice the demon-draining on Illidan, most were looking forward to perfecting the technique on the demons near the dimensional gateways, and so, once Rommath was able to stand and walk, the elves went to ask Illidan what the next step in their conquest of Outland was to be.

.

Illidan and Vashj felt that they should begin to move against Magtheridon immediately, before he had time to become aware of their presence. Kael could see that most of his people looked forward to fighting the demons at the dimensional gateways because it would give them an opportunity to learn and perfect Illidan's technique.

As Illidan laid out his battle-plans to Vashj and the elves, Rommath, Pathaleon, and Tae'thelan approached Kael.

"Maltrake is modifying the translocation orb's destination," Rommath said. "I think it would be beneficial if I returned to Quel'Thalas and spread the news of the essence-siphoning. There may be those who would wish to join you here."

"You sound as if you plan to stay there."

"For now, yes. I have, after all, been absent from my post as Grand Magister for over a week. As much as I would like to remain here, we did make a promise to Lor'themar that I would represent the mage presence in Silvermoon."

"You were in prison for almost three days!" Tae'thelan said. "Surely he will make allowances for that!"

"Yes, well…" Rommath smiled briefly. "I am now free."

"Tell him," Tae'thelan insisted. "I saw how badly you were beaten!"

Kael didn't understand it either, but he knew that Tae'thelan would get nowhere: Rommath was immovable about those things he did not wish to discuss. "You will, I assume, at least tell Lor'themar that the Alliance of Lordaeron should now be considered hostile to our people?"

"Of course."

Tae'thelan looked disgruntled that Rommath had avoided answering, but he did not press the matter.

"For my own part," Pathaleon said, "I find Lord Illidan's techniques useful, but what I find far more intriguing was his comment that we would have access to other sources of power after assisting him in his conquest of this dreadful place. In order to make that conquest as efficient as possible — and assuming our sojourn in Outland may be an extended one — I would like to make arrangements for setting up a proper base. Sleeping on rocky ground might be an exciting adventure for a child of 300, but for most of us it is not."

"I agree," Kael said. "Proceed as you see fit."

"Speaking of sleeping on the ground," Tae'thelan said, "might we ask our dwarven friends if they are willing to contact Lieutenant Tierny and buy our tents back? I would like to retrieve our tapestries." He pursed his lips then added with great disdain, "That is, if that ignorant boor hasn't burned them."

Kael nodded. "I know just the person to handle the request."

"One final matter," Rommath said. "Sarannis has offered to speak to Aneera Thuron about acquiring dragonhawks and hawkstriders for us. They would be useful for communication and reconnaissance."

"An excellent idea. How soon will you be ready to travel?"

"Immediately."

.

Pathaleon and Sarannis returned from Silvermoon with six dragonhawks, eight bags of crystal fragments, and the news that almost a hundred elves were making plans to join them.

"Where did these come from?" Kael asked as he sifted through the fragments. The slightly clouded, nearly colorless crystal pieces, some jagged, some rounded, had faint traces of arcane energy.

"Sunstrider Isle, for the most part."

Before the invasion, Sunstrider Isle, like much of Silvermoon and Quel'Danas, had been dotted with hundreds of bright blue arcane crystals. The crystals had turned a cloudy gray-violet after the invasion — a color that had started to fade after the Extinguishment — and the larger ones had developed fractures and other imperfections. "The crystals have deteriorated this much since we left?" Kael asked.

"Yes and no," Pathaleon said. "The increased mana wyrm population that followed the Corruption wasn't a problem, but apparently since the Extinguishment the wyrms have become increasingly aggressive, attacking those who come near. The recovery teams found that the only way to disperse the wyrms was to shatter the crystals and relocate the debris." Pathaleon paused. "The wyrms congregating around the crystal heaps will be convenient for the essence-siphoning training."

"Rommath plans to use the wyrms?"

"It seems reasonable," Pathaleon said. "The creatures have become a nuisance, they are small and easily drained, and they yield relatively pure arcane energy."

Kael felt a momentary sadness that the graceful, mindless creatures would be destroyed, but he had to concede that Illidan had had a point: killing the wyrms for magic was little different than killing other animals for food. "And the people? Are they accepting of this training?"

"Most are," Pathaleon said carefully. "Some are having difficulty learning the technique, but are willing to depend on crystals infused by others." He paused. "There are a few, a very few, that criticize the practice, but as of yet they have offered no alternative."

"Why are they opposed?"

"They claim it is immoral." Pathaleon made a face. "Most consider this stance ridiculous or hypocritical, like those who insist on continuing to call themselves quel'dorei rather than sin'dorei. Personally, I think such troublemakers should keep their divisive opinions to themselves, but it's not a cause for worry: when I discussed it with Lor'themar, he said that those who continue to speak out against the practice will be dealt with."

"Dealt with? How?"

"He did not say."

Kael did not know Lor'themar well enough to be able to imagine what he would do; he would have to ask Rommath to keep him apprised of this troublesome situation. "How is Rommath handling the criticism?"

"Admirably. He teaches those who wish to learn and ignores all else." Pathaleon looked hesitant, then added, "It's not really my place to suggest this, but I would recommend sending someone to assist him. Maltrake, perhaps? I know that Rommath takes great pride in being your voice in Silvermoon, but it is a heavy responsibility for one alone."

.

Aerial survey confirmed what Illidan had told them, that Outland was not quite as lifeless as it seemed at first glance. In addition to the four dimensional gateways along the eastern edge of the zone, there were at least a half-dozen tiny villages scattered across the landscape, most half-hidden in canyons and under rock ledges. Near the southern edge of the plateau, the dragonhawk riders glimpsed a collection of apparently deserted white stone buildings — a few so close to the edge of the abyss that they were twisted and half-consumed, while far to the north was a hulking stone and metal fortress.

"The Black Citadel, one of Magtheridon's strongholds," Illidan told them. "Garrison and training ground for his fel orcs."

"Fel orcs?"

"Orcs are native to this planet—" Illidan began.

"We know something of orcs," Kael said. "We have fought them before."

"Ah yes. The burning of the legendary Eversong woodlands," Illidan said. "Orcs created the gateways that shattered this planet; the few that did not escape the planet's rending were subsequently enslaved and then enhanced by Magtheridon's blood. They may come to the demons' aid when we assault the gateways. But come, let our attack begin!"

Kael and his people quickly discovered that fighting demons was not quite as simple as fighting undead in Lordaeron and Quel'Thalas had been. The demons not only moved faster and hit harder — many were spellcasters, and most of those that were not had weapons — but they also were sentient in ways that the undead had not been. They communicated in Eredun, with certain of the larger demons directing the smaller demons in group offensives and counter attacks.

In the end, however, the demons were felled by Illidan's siphoning technique. Zerevor and Selin became especially skilled at weakening the horned commanders, making them easy prey for the rangers and myrmidons. The remaining elves took turns perfecting their essence-siphoning on the smaller demons; any demons that remained, such as the man'ari warriors, were quickly taken out by Kael's mages, Vashj's sorceresses, Al'ar, or the dragonhawk riders.

"Draw the demons away from the gateway," Kael ordered, "so that Illidan can close it!"

The demons, now enraged enough to pursue the naga and elves, allowed themselves to be lured further and further from the gateway by a series of tactical retreats. Unfortunately, it soon became apparent that this was a ploy in order to lead their attackers into an ambush, as a dozen fearsome, red-skinned orcs materialized from the air, trapping most of the elves and naga in a surprise pincer attack and felling several in the first few moments.

Kael, drawing on the last reserves from his verdant spheres, was dismayed to see that the orcs were even more vicious than the demons. Firing off fireball after fireball and shielding those in the direst need, there was a moment where he feared that the orcs might mow through all of his and Vashj's forces before Illidan could close even a single gateway.

And then another set of combatants joined the fray, a group of misshapen people wielding sickle-shaped weapons who rushed from the concealment of a nearby rock formation and attacked both demons and orcs with astounding ferocity. In an instant the tide of the battle turned, and it was not long until it was orc and demon blood soaking into the harsh red soil, rather than elf and naga.

The largest of the villagers came forward. "I am Akama, Elder Sage of the Draenei," it said.

Kael had never heard of draenei, never seen one, but he hoped he would never have to meet another. The so-called Elder Sage was an even more grotesque parody of a kaldorei than Illidan. The blue-skinned creature's backswept ears were small and stunted—and the face! Glowing blue eyes hardly compensated for the rest, which looked as if a wax sculpture had melted. Noseless, the creature breathed through its gaping mouth, which displayed horrifyingly pointed teeth. Tapering fleshy protuberances — incongruously adorned with what appeared to be enamelled rings — hung from the creature's chin almost to its waist.

The draenei bowed. "Lord Illidan promised to rid us of our ancient enemies in exchange for our loyalty. These cursed orcs serve Magtheridon— and under his command have hunted us to the brink of extinction. But now, with Lord Illidan behind us, we will fight back and retake our ancestral lands."

"We also serve Illidan, old one," Vashj said.

"Very well, stranger."

A moment later Illidan, who had closed the first of the gateways, landed in their midst. "Well, well! Akama," he said cheerfully. "I wondered if you would have the courage to creep from your cave and join us."

With Akama's forces supplementing their own—and no more fel orcs appearing to tip the scale — closing the next two gateways went very smoothly.

Illidan landed in front of Selin after the third gate had been closed. "Too much, little one," he said. "You must moderate yourself. "

Kael saw that Selin's skin was flushed nearly as red as the skin of the fel orcs.

"Place it into a crystal," Illidan said, "as I taught the others of your company."

"I can't." Selin now looked as though he was becoming violently ill.

"You _must_ release some of what you have taken in," Illidan said sternly. "Mortal bodies are not meant to store such an abundance of fel energy." He then spread his wings and said as he launched into the air, "Either master the use of the crystals, or do not use my techniques. There will be dire consequences if you disregard my warning."

The final gate was surrounded by demons, but unlike the three previous gates these demons were not marching toward the Black Citadel but waiting, clustered tightly around the gateway and protecting it from the elf and naga attack.

"We're going to have a serious fight on our hands," Kael said.

"Do not fear the demons, Kael," Illidan replied. "In time they will call you master."

It was, even with Illidan's help, a long, fierce battle. Near the end Kael thought he would have to resort to blood magic to augment the havoc Felo'melorn was reaping, but a moment later Astalor came up next to him, elbowed him, and then, without looking at Kael, held out a handful of reddish crystals. "Blood, not fel," he said, then moved away as suddenly as he had approached.

It was a gesture both thoughtful and awkward, and Kael was beyond grateful. It took only a moment to absorb the power; the blood magic raced through his veins like fire.

A few more moments and it was over. As Kael stood watching Illidan seal the last gate, he said, "We've done it! The dimensional gates are all sealed. There's no way for Magtheridon to call reinforcements now."

"True, but his standing forces are still considerable. Assaulting his Black Citadel will not be easy, Kael."

For the first time since he had stepped into Outland, Kael felt exhilarated, and truly free. He could wryly admit that some of it might be euphoria from the blood-crystals, but he was certain that a greater portion of it was due to _finally_ being allied with those who not only needed his and his people's help, but who treated him as a equal. "I wouldn't have it any other way," Kael told Illidan, and meant it. Were there still many unknowns surrounding Illidan and the naga? Yes. Were there some things — such as their casual violence — that he was uneasy with? Most definitely; still, all in all, he was beginning to look forward to exploring both this new land and this new alliance.

.

Later that day, after a brief respite to heal the wounded, Illidan led his forces to the base of Magtheridon's Black Citadel and marshaled them for their final strike _._ "Magtheridon has grown strong over the years," Illidan said, "but with few real foes to contend with, he has become decadent and complacent. He cannot match our cunning or our will."

"We are prepared to fight to the end," Kael said, knowing he spoke for them all.

"I am pleased by your people's zeal, young Kael. Their spirits and powers have been honed in this harsh wilderness. Their courage alone may be enough."

Vashj, followed by Akama and a number of his people, joined them. "Lord Illidan," she said, "the new arrivals come to greet you."

"We draenei have fought the orcs and their demon masters for generations," Akama said. "Now, at last, we will end their curse forever. We are yours to command, Lord Illidan."

"As I promised, your people shall have their vengeance, Akama. By night's end we will all be drunk with it. Vashj, Kael — give the final order to strike. The hour of wrath has come!"

They swept through the orcs inside the Citadel like scythes harvesting grain, and soon came to a vast audience chamber. Five pedestals were spaced along the perimeter of the room; on each pedestal was a large cube, its sides covered with sigils.

"Manticrons," Zerevor said. "Warlock artifacts."

As soon as Zerevor spoke, five orc warlocks stepped from shadowed alcoves; Illidan silenced them before they could attack.

"I offer you a choice," Illidan said. "Freedom from servitude to Magtheridon — or death."

"What would you have us do?" the eldest of the warlocks asked.

"Summon your master," Illidan replied, "and I shall vanquish him."

All too eagerly, the warlocks moved to the pedestals and began channeling a summoning spell.

The air in the chamber became charged with ozone, and the large open area in the center of the room ... _thickened_ , somehow, filled with shadows that coalesced into a massive darkness. Kael could not look directly at this darkness without feeling as though it was leeching his very soul; his hands began to tremble, and he saw many of the elves and draenei shrinking back against the walls. After a moment there was a deafening crack of thunder and the choking stench of brimstone, and then Magtheridon was before them.

"Who has dared summon me?" Magtheridon demanded. His voice was a physical impact upon the chest.

Kael had read of the annihilan. He had seen illustrations; he knew that they had a dragonoid lower body merged with a winged torso, and that they were large, three times the height of an elf, and powerful, but that knowledge did not prepare him for proximity to such a massive being, to such malevolent power. He gripped Felo'melorn with both hands in an attempt to master his fear.

Illidan, it seemed, had no such fear; he stepped boldly toward Magtheridon. "I have."

"I do not know you, stranger," Magtheridon said, "but your power is vast. Are you an agent of the Legion? Have you been sent to test me?"

Illidan laughed. "I have come to replace you. You're a relic, Magtheridon, a ghost of a past age. The future is mine. From this moment on, Outland and all of its denizens will bow to me."

"Impertinent whelp!" Magtheridon lunged at Illidan with a gigantic bladed weapon.

"Now is the time to strike!" Illidan shouted. An elaborate green glaive appeared in each hand, and he struck at Magtheridon again and again, dancing away from the pit lord's increasingly enraged ripostes.

Akama and his draenei needed no additional encouragement, and they rushed toward Magtheridon with harsh cries. Vashj's naga joined in, and Kael and his forces as well. Many of the attacks rebounded off the demon's scaled hide, but some pierced it, and soon the floor under Magtheridon's feet was slippery with his blood, which smoked like acid.

"Wretches!" Magtheridon pulled his weapon against his chest, folded his wings about him, and began to chant in Eredun.

"Warlocks!" Illidan shouted. _"Now!"_

The orc warlocks hurried forward and activated the manticrons; an instant later, five violet beams converged on Magtheridon, and he roared impotently.

"Finish him!" one of the warlocks shouted.

"Banish him!" Illidan shot back.

"Banish him? Why?" one of the warlocks asked fearfully, without daring to take his eyes from the manticron. "You said we would be free of servitude!"

"Free of servitude to Magtheridon, yes," Illidan said as he motioned to Kael's and Vashj's forces to leave the summoning chamber. "However, you now owe your freedom to _me._ Either banish him, as I have requested, or release him and face his… tender mercies."

"Traitorous vermin!" Magtheridon raged. "The Legion will consume you all!"

"Take care, lest he get free," Illidan warned the warlocks.

The plates of the manticrons shifted. As the color of the channeled magic changed subtly, Magtheridon's form blurred and became transparent.

"Why not kill him?" Kael asked. He had fought with all his might, but now that the battle was over he was ashamed that his hands were still shaking.

"Because he is useful to me." Illidan's tone was casual, as if he were discussing which wine to serve at dinner. "Now, let us finish the task, and take the Black Temple."

.

Compared to the spectacle of vanquishing Magtheridon, taking the Black Temple was almost a disappointment.

Illidan portaled them to what he called Shadowmoon Valley, a place even more oppressive than the red desert had been. At least in the desert one could see the sky, with its symphony of boreals and celestial objects; here, the sky was obscured with curdled greenish black clouds, the landscape was a stony version of the same, and the air was thick with ash and sulfur vapor.

Yes, there were literally thousands of demons moving around the huge, open-air complex like insects, but as both Illidan and Akama pointed out, the segmented, terraced structure was to their advantage. "If we attack the key points, they will be isolated from each other, and more easily managed," Illidan said. "The nearby bastion holds many of the orcs' demonic siege weapons. We must crush the compound's defenders and claim the weapons for our own!"

It was, nevertheless, still more easily said than done. Unlike the gateways and the Black Citadel, the temple contained many new, more dangerous denizens in addition to the demons and fel orcs that they had previously faced. Towering rock elementals made of flaming stone; relentless felguards, and finally an aggressive species called the eredar, large muscular red demons with long tails, horns, spiked faces, and clawed hands. These demons, whose strangely-joined legs were similar to those of Akama and his people, seemed to inspire doubly-ferocious attacks from the draenei.

By the time they reached the terrace at the top of the Temple, Kael's and Vashj's forces were exhausted. Even Illidan seemed to have tired.

"Hear me now, you trembling mortals!" Illidan proclaimed to the remaining masses of fel orcs and lesser demons. "I am your lord and master now! Illidan, vanquisher of Magtheridon, reigns supreme!"

Kael watched Akama watch Illidan.

When Illidan turned from his new subjects toward them Akama asked, "And now, Illidan Stormrage? Will you keep your promise to the Ashtongue, and return the Temple to the draenei?"

"Soon," Illidan said, "soon." He held out his hand, and Akama doubled over, falling to his hands and knees. "But I yet have need of you, Akama." Illidan closed his fist with a quick movement, and, as if he had pulled on an invisible cord, a shadowy double of Akama lifted away from the groaning draenei's body. The double floated toward Illidan for a moment, then sank down through the stone roof of the Temple and out of sight.

"What was that?" Vashj asked.

"A guarantee of his loyalty," Illidan said, looking down on the groveling figure.

"And how will you guarantee _their_ loyalty?" Kael asked, looking out at the thousands of demons and fel orcs surging like a thorned scarlet sea on the lower levels of the Temple.

"I have my methods," Illidan said. Lady Vashj inclined her head slightly and seemed to smile.

Kael felt slightly uneasy; was that how Illidan saw him as well? The way he saw Magtheridon, as something of use? And what would happen if Kael and his people refused to be used? Would 'guarantees of loyalty' be extracted from them as well? And what would happen when they ceased to be useful?

As he was considering these things, he noticed a red glow on the horizon. At first he took it for a sunrise or sunset, red light wedging itself between the thick clouds and the horizon, but instead of fading the glow became brighter, bigger, spread up and into the clouds like blood soaking a bandage; then the wind picked up, lashing their faces with sand and volcanic ash until it was difficult to breathe. After a moment, Kael could see that a firestorm was racing toward them, a massive cyclone of flame that scattered the subjugated demons and fel orcs below like chaff.

"What is this, Vashj?" Kael asked, shielding his eyes. "Where did this storm come from?"

"Keep your head down, fool!" Vashj hissed in reply. "Something terrible is drawing near!" She moved to take shelter in an alcove.

Kael, struggling to comprehend what he was seeing, was unable to follow her example.

There seemed to be a gargantuan being in the swirling inferno, although Kael caught only brief glimpses of it through the blaze. In form it was similar to the red eredar they had just fought, yet far larger, and incomprehensibly more powerful.

"Foolish little mongrel," it said at last. The rumbling voice was malevolence itself. "You failed to destroy the Frozen Throne as I commanded. And still you thought to hide from me in this forsaken backwater! I thought you to be more cunning, Illidan."

Illidan, bowing low, said, "Kil'jaeden! I was merely attempting to bolster my forces. With the armies now under my command, the Lich King will be destroyed, I promise you!"

"Indeed?"

The flames abated for a moment, and the eyes of the one Illidan had called as Kil'jaeden bored into Kael'thas. Kael suddenly knew, with absolute certainty, that from this demon there would never be a place so remote, nor refuge so well concealed, that it would provide safe haven; nor any secret so well-guarded that it could not be dragged forth. Magtheridon had been frightening, had made Kael feel small and weak, but Kil'jaeden… to Kil'jaeden, Kael'thas did not even exist. Even Illidan, for all his knowledge and power, was less than a speck of dust.

"These servitors you've gathered show some promise," Kil'jaeden said at last. "I will give you one last chance, Illidan. Destroy the Frozen Throne, or face my eternal wrath!"

"I will make it so, Great One!"

In an instant the fire collapsed in on itself, into a void of utter darkness, and then it was gone.

"Perhaps hiding here was not the most prudent decision," Illidan said slowly. "Still, the quest lies before us. Will you follow me into the cold heart of death itself?"

"The naga are yours to command, Lord Illidan," Vashj said. "Where you go, we follow."

Kael'thas was still trembling.

_These servitors you've gathered show some promise._

He had not escaped Kil'jaeden's notice after all. "The blood elves are yours as well, master," he said. "We will drive the Scourge before us — and shatter the Frozen Throne as you command."

.

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_Next Chapter: Northrend_

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_ first post 25 Sept 2015; rev 22 Oct 2017 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to my beta reader **Bryn** , who sees not only trees, but leaves and forest as well.
> 
> Additional thanks to **Mipeltaja** for a read-through, and for discussing several WC3 campaigns with me at length — especially as they relate to WoW — thus helping me to glean valuable details for this story.
> 
> I have taken some creative license in regard to the section on Magtheridon: blending together details from WC3 and Burning Crusade, choosing to treat the Black Citadel (aka Hellfire Citadel) in Hellfire Peninsula and The Black Temple in Shadowmoon Valley as separate structures, and splitting the battle presented in WC3 between them. (More on this in the extended author's notes in my Dreamwidth and LiveJournal.)


	14. The Observation Grounds (Delrissa), Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illidan's army sets out to destroy the Frozen Throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter is based on the final chapter, "A Symphony of Frost and Flame," of the Scourge Campaign in _Warcraft III: The Frozen Throne_ and has brief, canon-typical violence. Email or IM me if you have any questions before you read.
> 
> OCs: Erellion Sunblaze, and demon hunter candidates Salandriel Sunblaze, Taran Dawnstrike, and Nilo Dawnstrike; all other named characters are canon.

.

.

~ : |14| : ~

_I could have sworn there were more of you!_

_Not really much of a group anymore, is it?_

.

.

What do you know of loss?

The pain of defeat is not the perceived insult to oneself, of being put in one's place: there is no shame in losing, one on one, to a superior opponent.

The true pain of losing is when those you care for give their lives for you. It's a sacrifice you can never repay in kind.

.

.

With Magtheridon defeated and Illidan reigning over Outland from the Black Temple, Kael had wanted to return to Quel'Thalas and set sail for Icecrown immediately,

"You have just helped subjugate an annihilan, little prince," Illidan said. "Take some time to savor the victory and recover your strength before we rush to the next task."

"The sea journey to Northrend will take weeks. There will be plenty of time to rest and savor once we have embarked."

Illidan shook his head and laughed. "So impatient!" he said. "Should we not learn more about the armies the Lich King may have at his command before we rush in? Our victory must be a decisive one."

Kael was uncertain how to respond to this. How would sitting in Outland bring them any information? Or… it had not previously occurred to Kael that Illidan might still experience fear or doubt: and why should he? He was an ancient, powerful being, and had such a force of blood elf, naga, orc, and demonic fighters under his command that the Lich King would fall quickly.

And after that, Illidan would be honor-bound to help Kael hunt down Arthas.

Illidan misinterpreted Kael's thoughtful silence. "You are free to go on alone, if you wish," he said, sounding petulant, "although, if you do, it will be without myself, Lady Vashj, or the forces we command."

"No," Kael said, "my people and I have already waited more than a year for our vengeance; we can be patient a while longer."

"A year," Illidan chuckled. "A year is but a moment!"

"Is that your way of telling me that you intend to wait another 'moment' before moving against the Lich King?" Kael asked.

"No, I shall not make you wait longer than necessary," Illidan said. "I give you my word, we will leave as soon as three hundred of your people join you."

"Three hundred?" Silvermoon's navy had not been a priority for rebuilding, and thus the badly-damaged harbor sheltered only a lone intact warship and a handful of small fishing vessels. "I would that you had told me sooner, my lord! I do not command sufficient ships." Kael wondered if he had enough goodwill with the dwarves to buy or borrow a few…

"We have no need of them," Illidan said. "My master has given me the means to transport our entire army to the shores of Northrend from here."

Kael's mind reeled at the thought of such a teleport. "How many demons and fel orcs will be accompanying us?" he asked.

"None," Illidan said casually, as if this was a trifling detail.

"None? Why?" Kael asked. "Your fel orcs alone outnumber Vashj's and my forces five times over! Add to that the demons you command—"

"Do not presume to question me!" Illidan snarled, leaping to his feet.

"Of course," Kael said, his heart pounding. "My apologies." Kael turned and began to walk away. Illidan's response had been so startling it caused Kael to consider a disturbing new possibility, that Illidan was not confident of success, which put his apparent reluctance to leave Outland and his decision not to bring his demon and fel forces to Icecrown in a new light. Postponing departure meant postponing failure; the more troops in Outland, the bigger the bulwark against Kil'jaeden's inevitable retribution.

Perhaps Astalor had been right; perhaps allying with Illidan had been a mistake.

"No, it is I who should apologize," Illidan said just before Kael reached the stairs. "I am not accustomed to being challenged. Please, stay." He sounded contrite. "I welcome your honesty, young Sunstrider. Tell me your thoughts. Ask me anything. I will answer."

Kael stopped. Illidan was currently his best—and truly, his only—chance at defeating Arthas and his undead army; there was nothing to be gained by antagonizing him. Any questions needed to be presented with finesse. "Are you delaying our departure in order to consolidate your power here?" he asked. "To ensure that the forces you inherited from Magtheridon do not turn on you in your absence?"

"Yes." The single word was toneless. "Is there anything else you wish to know?"

"Many things," Kael said, "but for now I will ask only this: Is the allegiance you exacted from Akama tied to this Temple? Is that why you are not taking the demons and fel orcs to Northrend, because you cannot? Because removing them from Outland would remove their loyalty to you?"

"You are… astute," Illidan said.

It was as close to an admission as he would give, but it also told Kael that, in order to carry out Kil'jaeden's mission in Icecrown, Illidan needed Kael as much as—or even more than—Kael needed Illidan. And with that being true, perhaps it was time that Illidan stopped treating him like a subordinate and more like an equal. "Three hundred, and then we go," Kael said. "And when we return, we move against Arthas. Agreed?"

Illidan nodded, once.

"In the interim," Kael said, feeling encouraged, "I'd like to see those alternate sources of power you mentioned. With Magtheridon defeated, such sources are now available us, are they not?"

Illidan sat very still. His blindfolded eyes were, as always, unnerving. What was it that he saw, Kael wondered. What was he thinking?

"You are not yet ready for such power," Illidan said slowly, "but, this I will do. Send me five of your ablest fighters. I will teach them to be warriors of such lethality as Azeroth has never seen."

.

After asking Sarannis and Vanthryn to search for five willing to undergo Illidan's special training, Kael sat down with his advisors in an empty courtyard of the Temple to discuss preparations for the expedition to Northrend.

"Illidan has asked that we bring three hundred," Kael told them.

"Three hundred?" Lana'thel echoed.

"He's expecting that much opposition?" Panthaleon asked. "I thought all we were doing was destroying a throne?"

"The throne is a Scourge artifact," Astalor said, stroking his chin, "and the Scourge do tend to muster large numbers."

"I assume we're using the ship in Silvermoon," Lana'thel said, "but I don't see how—"

"No," Kael said. "Illidan plans a mass teleport from here… unless you tell me you'd rather spend three weeks at sea?"

Astalor and Pathaleon looked startled. "No," Pathaleon said.

"It might be best if we encourage anyone who plans to accompany us to Icecrown to stay in Silvermoon until just before our departure," Pathaleon said. "At the moment, it's difficult enough to scavenge sufficient food and water for those of us already here; to feed and shelter almost ten times as many would be nearly impossible."

"An excellent suggestion," Kael said. "I wouldn't want those who have already suffered more than a year of privation in Quel'Thalas to subject themselves to the rough conditions here."

"Ah, but you'll subject us to them?" Lana'thel teased.

"Only because I know you can handle it," he said, noting that in the shadowy courtyard, her auburn hair and tanned skin made the new green of her eyes look exceptionally vibrant.

"Then we may have to forbid people from joining us sooner," Astalor said. "Rommath says that the siphoning technique has made many eager to join their prince here in Outland." As always, to Kael Astalor sounded vaguely sarcastic. "I would wager that as soon as the news that you are almost ready to go after Arthas circulates, they'll be coming through the portal non-stop."

"If that is the case, " Pathaleon said, "we might want to consider establishing a more permanent settlement here instead of an encampment of tents. After all, didn't Illidan say that there are still sources of power yet to be revealed to us?"

"There does seem to be plenty of room here," Lana'thel said looking up at the dark stone walls and glancing through the doorway at the crowds of demons and fel orcs.

"Impossible," Pathaleon said. He dropped his voice to a near whisper as an Ashtongue Broken ambled through the courtyard. "Aside from the lack of fresh water, I can't imagine sleeping easily, even behind locked doors, with hundreds of those creatures milling about. I'd rather sleep naked under a meat blanket in a lynx-den."

"That's an appealing image," Lana'thel said, and they all laughed. "That does give me an idea, though," she said. "If Akama and his tribe are moving here, perhaps they would let us use the huts and caves they vacate."

Pathaleon shuddered. "No thank you. I'd rather take my chances in a lynx-den."

"Not to mention the proximity of the Expedition humans," Astalor added. It was generally agreed that the human settlement south of the Black Citadel was a remnant of the Alliance Expedition, the consortium of humans, elves, and dwarves that Khadgar had led to eliminate the orc threat nearly fifteen years before. The Expedition had been presumed lost when the Dark Portal had collapsed.

Kael sighed, "It's unfortunate. I'm certain that they'd be willing to assist us; they'd remember us as allies from the Azeroth they knew."

"Too risky," Pathaleon said. "As soon as they found out we travel to and communicate with Silvermoon, they'd want to return to Azeroth—or at least send word to their families that they're alive—and before we knew it Garithos would be charging into Outland to recapture us."

"More likely he'd order the Expedition to do to it for him," Astalor said sourly.

"So for now, we keep clear of the humans in Hellfire," Kael said.

"And the dwarves here in Shadowmoon," Astalor added. Shadowmoon Valley, the bleak fel-tinged wasteland that was home to the Black Temple, had a large dwarven stronghold near the edge of the southern precipice.

"The dwarves have treated us better than the humans," Kael said, "but I'm not ready to knock on their door and introduce ourselves just yet. Has Veras scouted the elven structures the dragonhawk riders reported?" he asked Lana'thel.

"Yes," she said. "The structures in Hellfire Peninsula and Shadowmoon are only partially built and appear to have been deserted for years; aside from some of the larger pieces of a sanctum assembly, everything of use is long gone."

"A sanctum assembly?" Astalor said. "Interesting. Telonicus and I should take a look at that."

"And the quel'dorei outpost in Terokkar?"

"Active," Lana'thel said. "Despite the architecture, it's mostly humans and dwarves. Veras said they skirmish with the local orcs and bird people."

"That settlement is mostly humans as well?" Pathaleon said. "How unfortunate."

"If we were to build a more permanent settlement here," Kael asked Pathaleon, "where would you put it?"

"Somewhere in that forest, if a suitable location is can be found."

Kael and the others nodded. "Agreed. it is not a priority, but let us consider it a long-term goal. Now, back to our immediate needs. Do we return to Silvermoon until it is time for the attack on Icecrown, or do we remain here?"

"I recommend that we stay," Astalor said. "Preferably at the abandoned site in Shadowmoon. It's close enough to the Temple for meetings with his Lordship, but far enough that we won't be under constant surveillance from the Dragonmaw or the dwarves."

"And there's room for a staging area to the west, out of sight of the dwarves," Pathaleon pointed out.

"Any objections?" Kael asked. There were none. "The sanctum site it is."

Astalor looked momentarily pleased, but quickly reined it in. "Although it's not a proper sanctum, it still needs a proper name," he said, tapping his lips thoughtfully.

Lana'thel looked up at the square of light-speckled sky visible above the courtyard, as always smiling at the sight. "Stars?"

"Sanctum of the Stars it is," Astalor said. He dusted off his hands and stood. "We have a lot of work to do! Let's get started."

"A moment, if you would?" Kael asked. He waited until the others had gone before asking, "How is he?"

"Recovered," Astalor folded his arms, "or at least recovering. Grieving and guilty that he acquired his position through Belo'vir's death, of course, but happier than he will admit to be Grand Magister."

"He's not… bored?" Kael asked carefully.

Astalor considered this for a moment. "I doubt it. There are plenty of crises in Silvermoon to keep him busy." Astalor half smiled. "He craves throwing himself against the impossible, because he usually triumphs."

"That recklessness might get him killed someday."

"True. He…" Astalor looked off into the distance. "He always thinks he's being careful," he said, his tone less hostile than it had been in many months. "He takes precautions and thinks he's in control, but whenever he underestimates whatever he's dealing with…" Astalor's voice trailed off.

"Is that what happened with Illidan? Did he underestimate the amount of power he would draw from him?"

"No," Astalor scoffed. "He was just showing off."

"Showing off? He doesn't seem the type —"

Astalor turned back to Kael. "I think I know him better than you do," he said, then began to cast a teleport. "I'll start on the sanctum construction immediately," he said as he vanished.

.

The young elves were brimming with barely-controlled excitement. Kael had been told that the first two had been chosen almost immediately by Vanthryn and Sarannis from the dozens of volunteers, and that the remaining three—surprisingly enough, all from a short list of candidates compiled by Tae'thelan Bloodwatcher—had been approved after some days' discussion.

Now all five, along with Vanthryn, Sarannis, and Tae'thelan, had gathered at the Sanctum of the Stars construction site to be officially presented before departing for their training. Vanthryn had introduced Leotheras and Varedis, and now Tae'thelan was introducing the others.

"My nephew, Salandriel Sunblaze," Tae'thelan was saying. "His brother Erellion is a captain of the spellbreakers. Salandriel is hoping to follow in his footsteps."

The young elf gave a small bow.

"And finally, Toran and Nila Dawnstrike," Tae'thelan said as he motioned to the twins to step forward. "They've often told me Mehlar Dawnblade is their inspiration."

"Mehlar Dawnblade?" Kael said. A paladin of the Alliance? He gave Tae'thelan a pointed look. "You do understand that your training will be with Illidan Stormrage?" he asked the five. "A half-demon won't offer you instruction in the ways of the Light."

"My lord, we are sworn to serve Quel'Thalas and House Sunstrider in any way possible," Nila said, chin lifted resolutely.

"It is said that Lord Stormrage seeks those he can transform into fearsome warriors against the Scourge," Leotheras said. "We are honored to be among the first of those warriors."

"Very well," Kael said. "I will escort you to the Temple and introduce you to Lord Illidan myself."

"May the sun guide you," Tae'thelan said to the five, beaming. "Will they be joining the Northrend expedition?" he asked Kael, sounding both proud and worried.

"If Illidan feels they are ready by the time we embark."

.

Normally Kael would have taken a dragonhawk and flown to Illidan's sanctuary on the Temple summit, but as there were not yet sufficient dragonhawks acclimated to accommodate the eight of them—and as Kael had no wish to leave so many hawkstriders unattended so close to the Dragonmaw fortress—he opened a portal as close to the Temple entrance as Illidan's wards would allow.

As Kael, Sarannis, Vanthryn, and the five students passed through the fel orc training area and made their way to the massive flight of stairs that led into the Temple, one of the twins wrinkled his nose.

"The smell of orc and demon," Vanthryn said. "You'll become accustomed to it, in time."

As they entered the main hall, Leotheras looked around, obviously amazed at the sheer size of the building. "How are we to find Illidan in this place?"

Kael motioned to one of Akama's Ashtongue. "You—draenei. Come here."

"Krokul," the draenei said, bowing as it approached. "I am krokul."

"I have brought these elves to be trained by Lord Illidan," Kael said.

Before Kael could say more Krokul hurried off, returning some time later with Akama.

"What is it?" Akama asked. "What do you want?"

"For you or Krokul to take us to Lord Illidan," Kael said.

Akama made a soft, sharp sound that was almost like a laugh. "Krokul? Krokul is not his name. It is the name given to my people," he said in his gravelly voice. "Come, I will take you." He turned and began to walk toward a narrow door cut into the side of a massive black stone stairway.

"I thought you were called draenei?" Varedis asked.

"We are," Akama said, leading them down a dim, airless hallway, "but even more we are krokul."

"Does that word mean anything in your language?" Toran asked.

"Broken," Akama said as he turned a corner and began to ascend a second stone staircase. "It means broken."

"Is that what you prefer to be called?" Salandriel asked. "The Broken?"

"Yes." A swathe of dull pale grey went up the center of the stairs, a path created by thousands of feet wearing away the shiny black finish that coated the width of each step.

It was not until he reached the cone of bright torchlight at the top of the stairs that Kael realized the dark coating was decades-old dried blood.

.

Illidan, as he so often had been of late, sat at the edge of his terrace, staring westward over the landscape of Shadowmoon Valley at the seething green fire oozing from the volcano in the center of the plain.

"Prince Kael'thas to see you, Master," Akama announced.

Illidan waited for several beats before he turned to acknowledge them—which was fortunate, for at least two of the students seemed startled by Illidan's appearance.

"So soon? Have you gathered three hundred so soon?"

"Not yet," Kael said. "I have, however, brought you five students, as you requested."

"Five? I see seven."

"I thought he was blind?" one of the students whispered.

"Sarannis and I are royal guard," Vanthryn said.

"Ah." Illidan said. "Are these my potential initiates?" He came over to the five, leaning in close to scrutinize each in turn.

For their part they stared back, unflinching.

"They will do," Illidan said at last, turning away and walking back toward his seat at the edge of the terrace. "Take them to the training ground, Akama."

"Yes, Master."

As Varedis, Leotheras, Toran, Nila, and Salandriel headed toward the stairs, Illidan stopped and turned. "Wait… Akama, what news of the prisoner?"

"Underground, as you commanded, Master. Ground water to drink. No fresh air. Complete darkness. None speak in her presence."

"Who keeps watch?"

"Three Ashtongue below. Zandras patrols above."

Illidan nodded. "Perfect."

"There is one thing..." Akama said hesitantly.

"Oh?"

"With your permission, Master, I would retrieve the prisoner's armor and weapons, taken as trophies by the Coilfang. Dreadlord Vagath agrees that placing them within her sight—lit by a single torch, far out of her reach—would be a constant, painful reminder of her helplessness and failure."

"You say Vagath 'agrees'—this is your idea?"

"Yes, Master."

"You surprise me, Akama," Illidan chuckled. "I had no idea you were capable of such subtle cruelty. It is no wonder that the nathrezim approved." Illidan lifted his head as if listening to something, then said, "I will permit it. Return here after you have settled the trainees."

"Yes, Master." Akama bowed, then led the five elves from the terrace.

Illidan turned to Kael. "Vashj has requested to see you, and I have accepted on your behalf. Akama can guide you to her; he knows this world quite well."

"Lady Vashj is still in Outland?" Kael asked. "I have not seen her since Magtheridon's defeat, and assumed she had returned to more hospitable environs on Azeroth."

"It is true that the red desert is not to her liking," Illidan said, "but as no one understands water as well as the naga, I asked her to stay. While her Coilskar hoard and protect a small reserve here in Shadowmoon, Vashj and the majority of her forces have withdrawn to study the region known as Zangar."

"I look forward to seeing her again," Kael said.

"She also looks forward to the meeting." Illidan smiled briefly. "She is fond of you, in her way, and has more than once indicated to me that she thinks highly enough of your intelligence, magical prowess, and spirit to consider you an honorary female."

Kael smiled. "It may sound presumptuous, but I feel I understand enough of naga culture to recognize how much of a compliment that is."

"Indeed." Illidan glanced at Vanthryn and Sarannis, as though hesitant to speak in front of them. "Might I ask a favor?" He took a letter from his belt. "This contains instructions for contacting former students of mine. Perhaps one of your summoners or transmutation masters would deliver the message to them?"

"Of course," Kael said, taking the letter, mildly puzzled that Illidan did not contact the students himself; but then, he had already learned that Illidan's reasons were more likely to be convoluted than not.

"How are your people getting on?" Illidan asked suddenly. "Do they miss the forests of Quel'Thalas?"

"Some," Kael said. "Most are adjusting. A few enjoy the challenge of exploring a new world. Freywinn and Navarius are out every day cataloguing."

Illidan waved his hand and the roof of clouds above his terrace parted, revealing a huge celestial object, a blue world covered with a swirling tracery of clouds.

"What is that?" Kael asked.

"Your home, and mine," Illidan said. One clawed hand was in the air, almost as if he were reaching out to touch the blue world. "The world that has spurned us both."

"Is Azeroth truly so close?" Sarannis asked.

"Sadly, it is not," Illidan said, lowering his hand. "That is but a scryed image; the reality is much, much further away."

"Why would you want a reminder of the place that had banished you?" Vanthryn asked.

"Because… because there are still many things there I cherish."

Kael reflected that, for all that Illidan was secretive, somewhat irrational, and maddeningly condescending at times, the pervasive sadness and sense of loss that cloaked him certainly elicited sympathy.

The four of them stood silently, regarding the image of Azeroth, until Akama returned.

.

Illidan, explaining that he was the only one who could override his wards, opened a portal to Zangar.

Zangar was, in every way, the opposite of Hellfire Peninsula. Bathing the eye in shades of green, blue and brown, it was a fecund garden, misty and cool, rich with sound and movement.

"Wait til Freywinn and Navarius see this place," Sarannis said. "They'll never leave."

The portal had taken them to the base of a low cliff on the shore of a sea that stretched to the horizon in front of them and to either side. All around them, myrmidons and Broken worked under the direction of naga sorceresses.

"Wait here," Akama said, then splashed through the shallows and spoke to the nearest group of naga and Broken. After a moment, the group hurried off and Akama returned to them.

"Your people are here as well as at the Temple?" Kael asked.

"These are not Ashtongue," Akama said.

At that, the nearest Broken worker glanced at them and seemed to sneer, although it was difficult to tell.

"Are the tribes that separate?"

"Some are envious of the Ashtongue, or do not approve of our new allegiances," Akama said, watching the laboring Broken with narrowed eyes.

"How many tribes of Broken are there?" Kael asked.

"Other than the Ashtongue? Greyheart, Dreghood, Murkblood, Wrekt, Wastewalkers… some others."

"So many?" Kael found his curiosity piqued.

"What tribe is that one?" Sarannis asked, indicating the Broken who had sneered.

Akama considered for a moment, then said, "Dreghood."

"Perhaps someday you will tell me more about the tribes, and about the history of your people," Kael said.

Akama turned to him and said slowly, "Perhaps. Someday."

Watching Akama shape words with his grotesque, gaping caricature of a mouth was both horrible and fascinating, and his eyes —if the glowing blue light that filled the Broken's eye sockets could be called eyes—were somehow even more unnerving than Illidan's blindfold.

"How much more of the planet remains?" Sarannis asked Akama.

"More?"

"We've seen four regions—Hellfire, Shadowmoon, that forest between Hellfire and Shadowmoon, and now Zangar," Vanthryn said. "Is that all there is?"

"The rest is dangerous," Akama said.

"So there is more?" Kael asked. "Are you able to draw us a map?"

Akama used the back of his scythe to clear a space in the mossy soil, then drew a three-pronged shape. "This is Hellfire," he said, pointing at the middle peninsula, then the bottom one. "This is Shadowmoon." He pointed to the western edge of the map, opposite Hellfire. "Nagrand. Many orcs. Hostile tribes. Don't go there." He pointed to the space between Nagrand and Shadowmoon. "Terokkar. Forest and wasteland. Ruins in the wasteland. Elves in the forest."

"Yes, we've seen them," Kael said.

"The ruins are dangerous. Avoid going there." Akama pointed to the area above Nagrand. "Zangar. We are here now." He stopped speaking, as though he didn't intend to explain the rest of the map.

"And north of Zangar?" Sarannis prompted. "The last toe?"

"Toe?" Akama asked.

"The map you've drawn is shaped like an animal footprint," she said with a smile.

"Ah. I see. Toe." Akama's chest shook and he made a horrible wracking sound that Kael supposed was laughter. "North of Zangar is the territory of the ogres. Many strongholds."

"Let me guess," Vanthryn said dryly. "It's very dangerous and we shouldn't go there?"

"Yes," Akama said.

"The entire area north of Zangar is ogres?" Kael asked.

"No," Akama said, "but beyond the ogre lands are… " He seemed to search for words. "The most dangerous of all. Poisonous air and water. No one can survive there. Instant death."

"I can see why Illidan values you," Kael said. "Your knowledge is impressive. And to survive in such a hostile place—you and your people must have great tenacity."

Akama pointed. "She approaches."

Vashj, accompanied by a sorceress and surrounded by four myrmidons and several Broken, was gliding across the water toward them.

The Broken swimming after Vashj looked different than Akama; their skin was more pale violet than gray, and their faces, much less feral than Akama's, had mouths that almost hid their teeth.

"Prince Kael," Vashj said, inclining her head in graceful greeting as she and her bodyguards emerged from the water. "I am pleased to see you once again."

"And I you, Lady Vashj."

"I thought you might welcome some refreshment before we talk?"

"Thank you, that is most thoughtful."

Vashj hissed a few words to one of her Broken; he nodded, then motioned to Akama. The two dove into the water. Kael assumed they were off to retrieve Maiev's armor; Akama and Illidan hadn't mentioned her by name, but then who else would Illidan so enjoy imprisoning underground?

Vashj led Kael, Vanthryn, and Sarannis toward a stone pavilion a hundred or so paces along the shore. In the center of the pavilion was a table. On it, several pale green water-goblets made of the fluted cups of aquatic plants stood next to platters made of shiny round leaves which held roasted fish, berries, and fresh mushrooms. Kael, Vanthryn, and Sarannis, having eaten little but worm and ravager meat for weeks, devoured the repast with as much restraint as they could manage, then gratefully sipped the cool, sweet water.

"Water is the key to Outland," Vashj said. "Illidan asked me to find it. The orcs say that once there were vast seas on this planet; sadly, most were lost when the planet shattered, and even now the remainder pours daily into the void. I am attempting to save what is left, by draining what remains on the surface and storing it in caverns deep inside the planet."

"A noble task."

Vashj inclined her head to acknowledge the praise. "An overwhelming task."

"How can I help?" Kael asked.

"We naga had little need for engineers during our millennia beneath the waves," Vashj replied, "but in this situation, such knowledge might speed our efforts. Could you spare one of your experts to advise me?"

"I am certain Master Engineer Telonicus would be delighted," Kael said.

"That is most generous. In return, young Kael, I thought the stone our workers are excavating from the sea floor might be suitable for your sanctum? It is easily quarried."

"That would be very welcome," Kael said, wondering once again about the nature of the bond between Illidan and Vashj, and how many of his thoughts Illidan shared with her.

As much as Kael would have liked to stay, Akama reappeared soon after carrying the bundle of Maiev's armor, and when Vashj offered to create a portal to send them back to Shadowmoon, Kael did not refuse her.

.

The next few days flew by. True to her word, wagons pulled by teams of six Broken began to bring damp, pale-gray stone blocks to the sanctum construction site. As the 'Sanctum of the Stars' neared completion, there was talk of using the excess stone for an inn.

Illidan unexpectedly appeared the day the sanctum roof was being completed, and—to the consternation of the elven architects and engineers, who had built an ingenious device for lifting the massive arcane orrey into position—offered to place it himself. Astalor somehow convinced Illidan that such a display of power would undermine Kael's authority, and the demonic night elf contented himself with supervising the operation from above.

And then, with perfect timing, Rommath arrived later that day with the news that they had their three hundred—and more—for Northrend.

"It is very odd," Rommath told Kael, Astalor, and Lana'thel that evening as they stood on the upper balcony overlooking the party celebrating the Sanctum's completion. "Sometimes I look at Illidan and feel the presence of an ancient, vastly powerful being, and at other times see an awkward, socially inept adolescent."

Astalor said, "Odd. I see only a demon who cannot be trusted."

Rommath smiled faintly, while Kael wondered if there was anyone that Astalor did trust—other than Rommath.

"Illidan has spent more than two thirds of his very long life shut away in darkness and silence," Lana'thel said. "I can't imagine how he endured it."

They all were silent after that, until Astalor said, "So, we have our three hundred?"

Kael nodded, feeling a stir of anticipation. Tomorrow, at long last, he was going take the first tangible step on the path that would lead him to vengeance against Arthas.

.

* * *

.

_Northrend_

.

The alarm came as they were setting up Vashj's camp, northeast of the towering needle of rock and ice that Illidan said contained the Frozen Throne. The scrying stones held by Vashj and her various sorceresses all trilled at once; the myrmidons off the southern coast of Northrend had sighted a ragged fleet approaching. The dragonhawk riders took to the air with the bombs Telonicus had sent to destroy enemy ships, but it would take them hours to reach the shore and determine whether the ships held friend or foe.

Kael teleported to the first of the lookout locations. The elven scouts looked surprised to see him. "Is there danger?" the spellbreaker captain asked.

"No," Kael said, "But be on your guard. At least two ships have moored along the southern shore, and I doubt they are fishermen."

The second location was similarly peaceful, and Kael was relieved.

The third lookout post was in the midst of a battle between the scouts and a dozen or so undead. Once Kael joined the fray, the Scourge were quickly dispatched.

As he was materializing on the outskirts of the fourth location, he heard someone say scornfully, "These elves are pathetic. It's no wonder we destroyed their homeland so easily."

The words twisted Kael's heart even before he saw the gruesome scene. Every one of his scouts was dead. The snow bloomed scarlet beneath their mutilated corpses, torn apart by the same hideous spider-like monstrosities that Kael had battled at Suncrown village. In their midst was an enormous, beetle-like creature.

And leading them—though Kael hardly recognized him at first—was Arthas Menethil.

Even from a distance, Kael could see how transformed the former prince of Lordaeron was. The last time Kael had seen him, seven years before, Arthas had been newly inducted as a paladin; back then, the golden-haired, ruddy-faced, swaggering young man had not been without a certain rough-hewn nobility. Now, however, Arthas barely seemed human. Gaunt, white haired, grey-skinned, his macabre armor a travesty of the holy knight he had been, it was almost impossible to believe that he was the same person. No longer a paladin, no longer a prince, he was now king of Lordaeron, and a knight of the Scourge.

And Kael'thas was without a father. Kael had worried that he would be overcome with rage when he finally encountered his hated enemy, that he would become reckless, but instead he felt calm, almost detached. "Only because I wasn't there to stop you," he said. "It's been a long time, Arthas."

A faint, yellow-green shield shimmered around Arthas as he turned. "Prince Kael'thas. I haven't seen you since…" He didn't finish; was he too recalling that day in Kael's workshop when they had faced off with broken swords? "You lead these elves?"

With dismay, Kael realized that by speaking he had lost his chance to cut Arthas down at a distance; the ward he was using was unfamiliar, but it was most likely anti-magical. Had Arthas been alone, Kael knew he could have taken him in armed combat, but surrounded by the spider monstrosities… If only Arthas had been standing further forward! Kael could have placed a barrier around the two of them to ensure that the battle was between Arthas and himself alone. "What you faced here was merely a scouting force."

"The few quel'dorei on the glacier won't fare any better," Arthas said smoothly. "Although I'm surprised that there were enough left in Quel'Thalas to mount an invasion."

So Arthas knew of their mission, it seemed. Had the Lich King sensed the danger bearing down on him and called his champion to him? Or was there a traitor in Kael's ranks?

"Yes, we survived," Kael said. "We are now sin'dorei, blood elves, and stronger than you know. The rest of us will not be as easy prey as these few you took by surprise."

"High elves, blood elves, call yourself what you will," Arthas said, taking a step forward and lifting his sword slightly, "you all will fall before the Scourge." He took another step. "However, I do appreciate that you've saved me the bother of gathering up the remainder of your people for Frostmourne to harvest; for that, I will kill you last."

Kael's hands began to shake; he gripped Felo'melorn. If only Arthas would take another step or two forward… "Defeating Lord Illidan's army will be far more difficult."

"Illidan? He's behind this invasion?" Arthas sounded surprised.

"He is. Our forces are vast, Arthas. Even now they march upon the Icecrown Glacier." For just a moment, Kael imagined what it would be like to rush in and cut Arthas down… and then he realized that attempting to do so was a mistake. If he failed—and his chances of success were slim—he would be torn apart by Arthas' minions before he could return to warn Vashj and Illidan, depriving his people of their leader just before the crucial battle.

Even Dath'Remar, for all his heroism, was not foolhardy.

"You'll never make it in time to save your precious Lich King," Kael said.

Arthas' face contorted, and he swayed as if in pain.

"Consider this payment for Quel'Thalas… and other insults," Kael said, and then, as the giant beetle flared its carapace and began to charge, he teleported out.

.

By the time he returned, the floating heaters designed by Telonicus had melted an area of warm water atop the glacier for the nagas' comfort. The blood elves had retreated to a nearby ice ledge.

"He is here," Kael said once Illidan and Vashj had drawn near. "Arthas."

"Why would he be here?" Rommath asked once the turmoil had subsided.

"He knows we threaten—" someone began.

"No," Kael said, "he could not have known that. He sailed here, which means that he left—"

"—weeks ago," Astalor said. "Before Illidan received his 'mission' from Kil'jaeden."

"We only arrived here ahead of him because of Illidan's teleportation spell," Selin said.

"Could Arthas have come here to free the Lich King?" Thaladred asked Illidan. "You said that this Throne is a prison."

"He cannot free him," Illidan said, waving his hand dismissively. "The entrance to the Throne is locked, and only I know the secret of the key."

"Arthas' forces must be meager," Vashj said. "My sentries reported only two ships."

"Two ships could transport plenty," Luthion said sourly. "Remember the Thalassian Gate? Nearly two hundred Scourge were packed in there! Any ship bigger than a fishing boat could carry at least that many, especially if the undead were stacked in the hold like cordwood."

"But to spend a journey of weeks like that?" someone said. "It's unthinkable!"

"No it's not," Vorath said. "You are forgetting they don't need to eat, drink, sleep or even move. Luthion was right; an average ship could probably carry four or five hundred."

"So he could have brought almost a thousand undead?" Valanar asked.

"I didn't see nearly as many as that," Kael said. "I saw undead at only two of our camps. Less than a dozen at the first, and they were mindless undead, easily defeated. Our people there were unharmed, but they will now be watchful."

"And the other camp?" Vashj asked.

"Had fallen to Arthas himself by the time I arrived." There was a stir of dismay in the crowd as Kael sombrely named the elves slaughtered there. "In addition to two dozen undead, Arthas had bat- and insect-like creatures with him." He turned to Astalor. "We will have a full measure of revenge for the destruction of the Sanctuary."

Astalor nodded in grim satisfaction.

"You are certain it was Arthas?" Illidan asked Kael.

"I am certain."

"I am surprised that Arthas let you go," Vashj said. "He had superior numbers, and could have defeated you easily."

"He wanted a larger audience for my death," Kael said. "As I do for his."

"You said he had Insects with him?" Illidan asked. "Describe them to me." He listened, nodding, then said, "Nerubians. Many thought the survivors of the fall of Azj'Aqir vanished long ago, before the Sundering, but during my long imprisonment I heard their descendants, incessantly scratching out their cavernous burrows in the earth. Were they enscourged?"

"I do not know," Kael said. "There was a beetle-like one in their number. Three times as large as the others."

"A lord of the Spider Kingdom?" Illidan looked thoughtful. "If that is the case, it may not take Arthas as long to reach this location as it took us. If he is given safe passage through the dark, forgotten halls of Azjol-Nerub, he will be here much sooner than if he were traveling overland."

"Then let us shatter the Frozen Throne before he arrives," Kael said.

"It is not so simple, young one," Illidan said. "Kil'jaeden requires that we destroy not only the Throne but the spirit inside it as well. The Lich King himself."

"How do we do that?" Tenris asked.

Illidan hesitated.

 _He does not know,_ Kael thought with dismay.

"The Lich King has been able to control his servants in Lordaeron from atop this frozen prison," Illidan said, "a feat that required more than a modicum of power. I however, was able to strike at him with relative ease from an equally great distance."

"So he is not invincible."

Illidan nodded. "We could access the Throne and lay siege to him now," Illidan said, "but as he is aware of our presence, he is no doubt well-defended. The death of his chosen champion, however, will weaken him considerably," Illidan said. "Once Arthas is dead, the Lich King's spirit will have no place to flee."

The elves cheered and seemed ready for battle, but Kael's mind was still spinning. Why had Arthas come here if he could not open the Lich King's prison, and did not know the Lich King was to be under attack?

"Something troubles, you, young Kael?" Illidan asked quietly.

"The Lich King's prison," Kael said. "Tell me more of it."

Illidan held out his hand; in his palm was a tiny replica of the glacial crater around them. In the center was the spire of rock and ice: spaced evenly around it were four obelisks.

"At the top of the spire is the Frozen Throne," Illidan said. "The only access is through the Throne Chamber at the base of the spire."

Something began stirring in Kael's mind, a dim memory.

"To open the Throne Chamber," Illidan said, "one must have activated all four obelisks."

" 'The one who resonates with the lock is the key,' " Kael said slowly, with dawning horror. "Each obelisk must be activated by the same person; once they have activated all four, they will be able to see the entrance to the chamber and enter unharmed."

"Yes," Illidan said uncertainly. "But how do you know this?"

Kael felt ill. "Because I translated parchment fragments about those obelisks years ago," he said. _"Shi lok gu'ul enkil za'ar…"_

"Stop!" Illidan said. "For whom did you do these translations?"

"For the Kirin Tor archmage Kel'Thuzad, now a servant of Arthas and the Lich King."

.

Knowing that Arthas had the knowledge of how to activate the obelisks added a complication. No longer were they just focused on killing Arthas, they had to do so while also preventing him from entering the Throne Chamber and releasing the Lich King.

The discussion of how best to proceed became heated. Some felt it was best to concentrate on defending one location; others felt they should divide their forces between two or more.

"Without knowing exactly how many forces Arthas has with him," Vanthryn said, "splitting our forces between all four obelisks may stretch us too thin."

"But if he doesn't see many of us, he'll have a false sense of security," Keleseth said. "I say we we move away from that valley to the east, as he'll probably march in that way." His voice had a hint of panic.

"Move where?" Luthion asked. "Even if he does enter through the valley, there's no cover here except for that spire of rock!"

"The naga are tied to this base," Astalor said. "They're useless in this fight unless the enemy comes to them, and if they do come under heavy attack they can't retreat."

"Not true," Vashj said. "The water is pleasant, but unnecessary. We will pursue the enemy until they are defeated." She narrowed her eyes. "And know this: naga do not retreat. They fight, or they die."

Kael was horrified at her callousness.

"Their deaths will add to Arthas' forces," Andorath warned.

"Naga cannot be raised into undeath," Vashj said.

"If we let Arthas activate the eastern obelisk, he'll likely leave some forces there to defend it," Sarannis said. "Once he has led his main force south, Vanthryn and I can charge that position from the north and take it back."

"A workable plan," Vashj said. "Kael'thas, can you make the western obelisk unassailable?"

"I can."

"Then we are agreed," Illidan said. "I, with the assistance of the myrmidons and the blood elves, will hold the north."

"And I will take my sorceresses south," Vashj said firmly.

"Two thirds of my forces will go with you to the southern obelisk," Kael told Vashj. "Tenris, Andorath, Taldaram, and I will fortify the area around the western obelisk, and then join you." He saw Rommath open his mouth to protest, and said, "The remainder will go with Sarannis and Vanthryn to harry Arthas' forces, and to provide support for Illidan."

"Only four of you in the west?" Rommath asked.

"As has been pointed out," Kael said, "the western obelisk will be hidden from Arthas' sight behind the Throne. We will rejoin the forces at the southern obelisk long before Arthas catches sight of us."

"And after Arthas is defeated?" Atherann asked.

"Regroup here," Vanthryn said. He looked at Kael, and raised an eyebrow. "I've heard you gave a great speech back in Lordaeron," he murmured.

Kael smiled faintly. "Illidan is our general, not me."

"We followed you here, not Illidan," Vanthryn pointed out.

Kael nodded, then turned to the assembled elves and held up his arms for silence.

"Anyone who is afraid of the upcoming battle," he began, "afraid to die here, come forward now, and we will open a portal to Silvermoon for you."

He looked around, but saw no movement or sound other than the wind and snow.

"For those who stay… know that this day is the culmination of our vengeance. After today, you will be able to say, _'I fought in Illidan's army with Kael'thas in Northrend, the day we were revenged on Arthas.'_ All of us who shed blood here today in memory of the fallen will be bound together, brothers and sisters in glory; we will be celebrated in songs and tapestries, and our names will never be forgotten. We will carry forth the spirit of our people, to rise from the ashes and rebuild, We shall not suffer the tyrant who sought to crush us to live another day! For Quel'Thalas!"

"For Quel'Thalas!" came the answering roar.

"Once the chamber is opened," Kael said, "we will destroy the Frozen Throne as promised."

"Then the hour has come at last," Illidan said. "After today, the Scourge will meet its end. Can you hear me out there, Arthas? Its end!"

.

As the elves divided into groups, it began to snow. Large gentle flakes at first, floating down through the calm air like tiny white feathers and flower petals, but soon a frigid wind began to blow in from the east and the snowflakes shrivelled into grains of ice that stung the skin.

Vashj, her sorceresses, and two hundred blood elves were the first to depart. Kael caught Lana'thel's eye, and she solemnly saluted him with Quel'Delar. Al'ar flew ahead of Vashj's group, melting a path southward for the naga to travel more easily, and soon even the phoenix's blaze was out of sight.

Kael went up to Astalor and Rommath. "I count on you to make sure he doesn't get too reckless," he said, addressing both of them, and then he gathered his mages and set off toward the western obelisk.

The large snowflakes returned to join the ice and wind in a near-blizzard whose swirls occasionally dropped visibility to only a few feet. Fortunately, the obelisks were connected by artificial ley-lines so strong they could be sensed through the icy surface of the glacier.

Once they arrived Kael created a shield around the obelisk, and Andorath channeled just enough to maintain it while Tenris, Taldaram, and Kael carved ice from the edges of the glacier and built bulwarks. It was slow, precise work, but it took Kael's mind off the approaching battle somewhat, took the edge off the tension of wondering when, and from which direction, Arthas would appear.

.

They had built two semi-circular, shoulder-high walls ten paces out from the obelisk and were discussing the best way to maintain the shield when, without warning, a battle was upon them.

As if blown in by the blizzard, there was an explosion of sound and movement from the south. A moment later elves began to emerge from the snowstorm, running, turning to cast a firebolt or fire a volley of arrows and then running again.

"Hurry!" Kael shouted as the faint outline of a dozen swift-moving spider-creatures emerged from the white blur. "Inside the barrier!"

A dozen or so elves ran past him. Others were not so lucky; the clanging of swords was cut short by screams and the hideous noises of the Nerubians.

Kael, unable to see any more of his people running toward him—and hating that he could not wait another instant—put up a barrier just beyond the ice-bulwark.

A slow-moving shadow emerged from the snow, and Arthas walked toward the barrier. He seemed changed even since Kael had seen him on the shore; larger, and even less human. The massive runeblade he held glowed with power, vile mist seething from it like steam.

"Get out of my way, _blood elf."_   Even his voice was different now, oddly doubled and echoing, reverberating with malice.

"Never!"

Arthas put his gloved hand on the barrier, and then pressed the point of his runeblade against it. "Are you still upset that I stole Jaina from you, Kael?" he asked.

Kael gasped at the sudden pain in his chest; it was as if the runeblade was literally penetrating his heart. He gritted his teeth and re-focused, even as Arthas leaned upon the blade.

The shield held. Taldaram and Tenris stood next to Kael and hurled firebolt after firebolt out at the Scourge behind Arthas. This emboldened the archers and warriors who had not made it inside the barrier to flank the enemy and renew their onslaught, ensuring that the elves and naga—no, there were no naga; surely Vashj and her entire contingent could not have been slain so quickly!—still approaching from the south could box the Scourge in and attack them from all sides.

And then, just as it seemed that they would be able to prevail, something crashed into the barrier above Kael's head, startling him.

He faltered for only an instant, but it had been enough for Arthas to cross the barrier. Now inside the perimeter of ice, Arthas walked inexorably toward the shielded obelisk, where Andorath, his face a rictus of determination, continued to channel.

Kael looked up to see the batlike creature that had hit the barrier diving toward him, but an instant later, thanks to Tenris, it exploded in flame.

Kael instantly drew power from his crystals and prepared to cast a massive pyroblast at Arthas, trusting the others to keep the Scourge at bay for a few moments. "The Prince of Lordaeron had Jaina's heart," Kael said to Arthas. "Whatever you are now… she is lost to you."

Arthas stopped, turned to look at him, and held out his hand.

And now it was as if that hand was around Kael's throat, squeezing it in a grip of iron. The edges of his vision began to streak red. "After all... I don't see her here," he gasped out.

His field of vision was almost entirely black when Arthas twisted and charged him.

The pressure on this throat disappeared. He barely got Felo'melorn up in time to block the runeblade, and the two swords locked together.

This close, Arthas was truly monstrous. No trace of warmth or humanity remained; he was an utter and absolute personification of death and despair.

Arthas pressed down, using his greater weight to force Kael back, and Kael's muscles began to burn with exertion.

"You've taken everything I ever cared for, Arthas," Kael snarled. Voicing his hatred gave him a small surge of strength. "Vengeance is all I have left."

Arthas shoved him. As Kael staggered back, Arthas thrust out his arm, pointing his blade at Kael, and said, "Not everything. Not yet."

Once again Kael felt the choking grip, but this time something also took hold of his chest, his very breath, and Kael felt as though his body was being rended to shreds, to nothingness…

An instant later there was a blur of movement from Kael's right. A flash of gold and brown and silver slammed into Arthas, interrupting the spell.

Lana'thel.

Arthas, impossibly fast, whirled and slashed his blade across her throat. "Feast, Frostmourne," Arthas said. As she dropped Quel'Delar and held her hands to the bubbling wound. Arthas pointed the tip of his blade at her, drawing forth a faint blue smoke from her body as she collapsed.

"No!" Kael struggled to his feet, intending to charge Arthas, but just then the spider lord crashed through the bulwark. A wall of ice and snow crashed down on Kael, and he knew no more.

.

_"The third obelisk has been activated! Only one more remains! Rise up, my warriors!"_

Had someone spoken, or had he imagined it?

And the screams? Had he imagined them as well?

He was cold, and suffocating. When he opened his eyes it was to a wall of snow and ice, twilight gray only a hand's-breadth away. The only sound in the eerie silence was his shallow breathing and his slowing heartbeat. His right arm was entirely numb.

 _I cannot die here,_ he thought.

With effort he forced his left arm to move, forced his hand up in front of his face and conjured a small fireball that blasted through the snow and ice to the air.

Several minutes passed while he did nothing but breathe, his sodden, frozen robes leaching more and more heat from his body. When his shivering started to became uncontrollable and almost convulsive, he knew he had to move, or die.

Steeling himself against the pain and the creeping cold—and determined to save what magical energy he had left—he enlarged the breathing hole with his free hand, the snow searing feeling back into his numb, cramped fingers. He clawed until he made enough space to begin to begin to pull himself out. It was exhausting, but every time the urge to just give up, to give in, washed over him, he thought of his father or of Lana'thel, and became determined to go on.

 _We will carry forth the spirit of our people, to rise from the ashes and rebuild,_ he had said. He must prove that those were not empty words.

When he at last pulled himself free, he looked around. The shield was gone from the obelisk; next to it was Andorath's crumpled body, and north of the bulwark, those of Tenris and Taldaram. There was blood where Lana'thel had fallen. Staring at the stain in the snow, Kael could not shake the memory of how she'd collapsed after Arthas had slit her throat. There was no sign of her body or Quel'Delar.

"He said he'd take everything from me, and he did." Kael clenched his fists, and then turned back and began to dig frantically through the snow and chunks of ice that had buried him. "Where is it?" he asked. "It must be here! It must have been knocked from my hand when I fell!" He scattered and melted every bit of snow, but there was no sign of Felo'melorn.

Wracked with despair, he thought he once again heard the sound of distant screams. Whispering an apology to his father and Dath'Remar, he abandoned his search.

.

The screams had come from the south, and so Kael went in that direction.

The snowstorm had eased somewhat, but that was no blessing, for the snowflakes that had fallen so gently and gracefully before now were now piling white shrouds on the corpses that trailed between the western and southern obelisks.

Kael hadn't realized how blindly he had been walking until he almost ran into a huddled figure walking toward him.

"Prince Kael'thas!" The elf, Theraldis, reached out and grasped the ice-caked fabric of Kael's robe. "My lord, you are frozen."

"It is nothing," Kael said, gritting his teeth. "The wind will dry it soon enough. Until then hatred will keep me warm." He shook his head. "Theraldis… you were with the group at the south obelisk. Where are the rest? What happened? Where is Vashj? Why were there no naga with the fleeing elves?"

"Just as we reached the obelisk," Theraldis said, "something huge flew overhead. It sent down a blast that froze most of us in place. Only a few managed to free themselves before the Scourge arrived."

"So all were slain?"

"No," Theraldis said. "The undead didn't attack the naga. Only us. Only elves."

"Naga are of no use to the Scourge," Kael said. "They can't be turned."

"Shouldn't we head north?" Theraldis asked. "To the meeting place at the northeast camp?"

"South," Kael said decisively. "We'll go south, see if any of the trapped naga are still alive. If Vashj is among them she can communicate with Illidan and tell him we're on the way. And there may be other elven survivors."

They had gone only a short distance when they saw a female survivor kneeling by a body. She was trying to help, bending over the body, listening for a heartbeat, and then burying her face in grief against the fallen elf's neck...

"Lana'thel?" Kael asked hopefully as he approached, recognizing the rich reddish brown color of the long braid that hung down her back.

She turned.

Her eyes were black, featureless pools, and a tracery of dark veins marred her unnaturally pale skin. Her lips glistened reddish-black with—blood?—and the gash across her throat was paralleled by another across the tops of her breasts, oozing what looked like tar.

As Kael watched in horror the dead elf—Keleseth—sat up. Lana'thel put her arm around him, then pulled him to her, where he pressed his mouth to her wound. She stared at Kael, parting her lips to expose sharp teeth.

"Lana'thel…" he said.

Her face contorted in anger, and then, just for a moment, her eyes were blue again, anguished blue. "Run," she pleaded, "I can't fight him. I can't hold it back."

And then her eyes were black again.

"Your blood is mine!" Keleseth said as he launched himself at Theraldis, wrestling him to the ground.

"Go!" Theraldis screamed, struggling with Keleseth. "Kael'thas! Save yourself! Hurry!"

As Keleseth tore aside the collar of Theraldis's robe and bit down on the side of his neck, Lana'thel stood, swaying slightly, and held her arms out to Kael. "Come to me, my prince… "

There was something so compelling in her voice that Kael took a step toward her. He tried to stop himself from taking another, but his body would not obey.

His foot began to lift, to take another step, when what looked like a fiery spear blazed down from the sky and hit the glacier between Kael and Lana'thel, then began to move, tracing a wall of flame around Lana'thel, Keleseth, and the now-unmoving Theraldis.

"Fool!" Kael heard someone shout. An instant later he was seized and roughly turned away from Lana'thal's hypnotic stare. "Move!"

It was Vashj. Behind her were a few dozen naga and a handful of elves; above her Al'ar hovered, drawing arabesques of flame in the frigid air with each slow wingbeat, and periodically sending a plume of fire down in front of Lana'thel.

"You must flee!" Vashj commanded, giving Kael a shake. "Before the fire dies!"

"The San'layn," Lana'thel said through the flames, "will come for you."

Vashj, Kael, and the others began to run north.

.

Vashj told Kael what she knew, and what Illidan had communicated to her.

Arthas had indeed entered the valley from the east. He had not had a thousand undead, as some had feared, but in addition to over a hundred Nerubians and several dozen undead elves and dwarves, he had had an enormous skeletal dragon. The dragon had frozen the entire northeast naga camp in a single pass, killing many elves in the advance guard. After the dragon had flown off to the south, Illidan had ordered the surviving blood elves to pursue Arthas and his forces rather than free the naga.

Vashj, assuming that the dragon was headed toward her position at the southern obelisk, had spread her forces out and prepared to attack. Unfortunately, neither the sorceresses' frostbolts nor the arrows of the archers had much effect on either the dragon, Arthas' ground forces, or Arthas himself. After Arthas had killed as many elves as he could find—as well as any naga that attacked him—he had moved on, presumably to the western obelisk. The elf mages who might have been able to free the naga from the ice were dead.

"Then how—"

"Your phoenix," Vashj said. "It is… a useful beast."

Kael looked up at Al'ar with silent thanks, then glanced back; of the elves he'd sent with Vashj, he recognized among the dozen survivors only Vorath, Veras, Zerevor, Gathios, Luthion, and Malande—and Sarannis, who he realized must have chased Arthas's forces all the way from the main camp.

Twelve alive, of two hundred. He did not have time to grieve now, but he would.

"We must hurry to Lord Illidan," Vashj said, increasing her pace. "I fear he is imperiled."

"Has he fought Arthas yet?" Kael asked.

"I do not know."

.

The first of the tremors came as they were nearing the northern obelisk. It was as if a massive creature under the glacier was stirring, trying to shake the ice off its back. An ominous crackling accompanied the cracks that appeared.

"Something… " Vashj turned at looked at the icy pinnacle.

Sarannis spied a large, dark shape in the snow. "Here!" she said, hurrying over.

It was Illidan, face down in the snow. Veras, Gathios, Kael and Malande carefully folded the tattered, stiff wings, and then turned him over.

Vashj threw back her head and gave a keening, ear-splitting cry. There were vicious gashes in Illidan's chest and abdomen, and his blood had stained the snow beneath him black. Vashj and Malande immediately began to channel healing spells, and Illidan made a soft sound.

He was alive, at least.

Vashj's sorceresses hissed, and Gathios and Veras drew their blades. "We have trouble," Veras said.

Lana'thel was walking toward them across the glacier, leading a group of their dead.

Kael glanced up at Al'ar, but before the phoenix could breathe fire, one of the undead elves gestured, and a shield shimmered into place above the group; as Al'ar's flames hit the shield, the elf—who looked like Taldaram—made another gesture, gathered the flames into a sphere, and then sent it floating toward Kael and Vashj.

"I told you," Lana'thel said as the elves scrambled to move Illidan out of the path of the flame sphere, "that the San'layn would come for you. After all, what is a Queen without her King?"

"San'layn. Does that word have meaning to you?" Vashj asked.

"In Thalassian, it means _those fallen into the dark."_

The glacier shuddered again, more violently. Both Kael's and Lana'thel's groups were knocked off their feet as the glacier rippled and buckled. With a rumble more felt than heard, the glacial ice broke up into rapidly-melting floes.

"We must get Lord Illidan to the portal!" Vashj said.

Kael nodded. Lana'thel pointed, and her undead pulled themselves across the ice and slipped into the water, dark forms darting like sharks.

Illidan groaned as nearly a dozen elves and naga hoisted him up and began to hurry across the unstable surface of the ice in the direction of the main camp.

First one, then a dozen gray-skinned, black-clawed hands reached out of the water and began pulling themselves up.

"Go," Luthion shouted, stabbing at one of the hands with his sword. "I will keep them at bay!"

"And I!" Vorath said, tossing a dazzling volley toward the edge of the water. Atherann joined him, using his crystal-tipped mage staff like a pike in between fire blasts.

"No!" Kael shouted, but too late; in an instant the three were pulled down into the water, and surrounded by a swarm of the undead.

"Kael'thas!" Vashj hissed. "Do not waste their sacrifice! Their deaths may buy us time!"

With a snarl of grief and frustration, Kael turned from the churning water and raced after the others.

The journey to the main camp was hellish. At first the elves struggled to keep their footing on the rapidly-melting and unstable surface of the glacier while carrying Illidan, but once more open water appeared they simply sat on a floe, Illidan in the center, while the naga held the edges and sped them through the water which now surrounded the pinnacle that contained the Throne.

Kael began to worry, then, that the increasingly violent waves might have inundated the camp. Had the elves there survived Arthas, only to be drowned?

But no; at least at the moment, Northrend's hunger for life seemed to be sated. As Al'ar swooped low over the waves lapping the rock wall that had contained the immense glacier Kael saw 30 or so elves—Astalor and Rommath among them—huddled on a rock ledge, with a dozen or so myrmidons swimming below them. As the elves caught sight of the approaching ice floe Kael could read in their faces their joy at seeing survivors, and then dismay when they saw Illidan, and how few elves were returning with him.

It was the same mixture of relief and sorrow that beat in Kael's own heart, and so, when they pulled him up out of the water, prince or not, he had no hesitation about embracing them like brothers.

 

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_~ Next chapter: The aftermath ~_

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_ first post 19 October 2015; rev 22 October 2017 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The San'layn (also known as the Darkfallen) are a small faction of vampiric undead blood elves found in Northrend. Led by Blood-Queen Lana'thel, they run the Lich King's operations in Northrend. (Keleseth and Valanar can also be found in the death knight starting area, among other places.)
> 
> Thanks to **Bryn** for being (once again) a terrific beta, for not cackling too much over my awful first-draft purple prose, and for allowing me to use her headcanon about the nature of Rommath's recklessness; to **Mipe** , for (once again) talking out various aspects of WC3 that were giving me trouble, and for reminding me of the view from Illidan's rooftop; to **shinyforce** for use of her OCs; and finally to **Xeno the Pandaran Phoenix Poacher** and **Stinger** , for their insights into Arthas. (Especially Stinger: thank you for your perspective!)


	15. The Observation Grounds (Delrissa), Part V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the losses in Icecrown, both Kael's alliances and his friendships are strained to the breaking point.

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~ : |15| : ~

_"One is such a lonely number."_

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The ferocity of cornered beasts is admired, but what is often forgotten is that, given a choice, wounded creatures almost always seek to flee instead of fight.

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**.**

That the cold of Icecrown would linger was to be expected; he had, after all, been buried for a time in its snow, had swum in its frigid waters and been buffeted constantly by its winds. He understood the pain that came from the places where his skin had been rubbed raw and bloody by his frozen clothing, and the heavy, clumsy weariness that had leeched into his limbs.

What he did not expect was that he would carry Northrend's silence with him as well, a voracious white void that swallowed half of every sound that reached his ears. Not that it was unwelcome: it muffled the clamor that met him any time he entered the Sanctum, the stammering of those who had been too frightened or weak to go, their guilt-fueled apologies for having  survived, their endless discussions about how Arthas _surely_ had died after the battle.

He began to despise those who had not been there with him. He wondered if the others felt the same.

One night, caught in a sudden impulse to seek solace, he came across Astalor and Rommath standing close together and talking softly in the shadows around the side of the Sanctum.

"My lord?" Rommath asked, taking a step away from Astalor.

"Where is Selin?"

"Gone to the Temple with Zerevor and the rest of the Illidan worshippers," Astalor said. His tone was of unmitigated contempt.

"Be quiet, Astalor," Rommath said over his shoulder. "We chose to follow Illidan. All of us. Each step of the way."

Astalor snorted. "The only reason you—" He stopped, closed his mouth, and looked away.

There was no need for him to finish the sentence: _The only reason you follow Illidan is to please Kael'thas._

Rommath's silent fury was palpable.

"Yes, I encouraged our people to join me in following Illidan, in accepting his teachings," Kael said, "and so the responsibility for the consequences of following him is mine. As in Lordaeron, I have once again failed to lead our people to victory." The words caught in his throat, and he had to stop himself before giving in to the furious part of him that wanted to lash out and shout at Astalor _Perhaps, if I had advisors less focused on personal concerns, I wouldn't make so many mistakes!_ "Even worse, I briefly had Arthas, the one who nearly annihilated our people a year ago, under my sword, but I was not strong enough to kill him."

Astalor inhaled sharply.

"That failure cost us almost three hundred lives," Kael said, clenching his fists. "Lives that weren't even allowed the oblivion of death." He took a step toward Astalor. "But if you ever dare again to suggest that I think lightly of these failures, that the memory of those we lost does not weigh on me like a hundred thousand stones, that I will not be haunted, every waking moment for the rest of my life, with the knowledge that they are, all of them, writhing in the torment of undeath—" Kael had run out of words to express his outrage, and was dangerously close to attacking Astalor.

And yet the fool did not see that. "What does your grandiose self-reproach accomplish, Kael'thas?" Astalor demanded, shaking off Rommath's cautionary grab at his arm. _"Nothing."_

Kael began to conjure a firespark between his hands; from the top of the Sanctum, Al'ar gave a shrill war-cry.

It wasn't until Rommath, looking shocked and almost fearful, shielded Astalor and himself that Kael came to his senses. He moved his hands apart, allowing the spark to dissipate. "I'm… my apologies."

Astalor glanced at Rommath, then walked through the shield as Rommath dismissed it. "I am no sycophant, Kael'thas; I can only speak the truth as I see it, no matter how painful. If you want to surround yourself only with those who will tell you pleasant lies, say so, and I will remove myself from your service."

Kael rubbed his eyes, the anger draining from him all at once. "No, no, that is not at all what I want. Say what you feel you must say."

"The best way to honor the dead is not to indulge in grief but to move forward. Value the living. You still have Rommath and other key advisors, and an army that grows daily with willing recruits from Silvermoon. As much as those we have lost are missed, their… absence… does not doom us to failure. Vanthryn advised you—advised us—on military matters, tactics. Sarannis can step into that role."

"I am certain she can." He was not quite ready to forgive or forget Astalor's insolence, but he could also admit that his assessment wasn't entirely untrue.

"I am not entirely heartless," Astalor said more quietly. "I mourn them as well. I admired the way Navarius worked with Freywinn to study the land, plants, and animals here and in Quel'Thalas, and how Sandoval gave voice to our eagerness for battle. And Valanar to our reluctance," he added. "Keleseth, Taldaram, Tenris, Vorath—they lightened our days with humor. Theraldis was our peacemaker, Andorath and Atherann were the voices of reason and compassion, and Lana'thel…" Astalor's mask of surly arrogance was now completely gone, and his face mirrored the raw pain that Kael felt.

"I will go to Silvermoon and meet with Lor'themar," Kael said briskly, beginning to cast a teleport spell. "I'm sure he'll want the details of our defeat."

"Wait," Rommath said, dismissing his shield. "Allow me. I've come to understand him quite well the past few months. I think I know how best to present the information to him."

"As you wish," Kael said.

"I will stay at the Temple," Astalor offered, "and join those sitting reverently by Illidan's bedside. Or would you rather we begin cutting ties with him, my lord?"

Kael couldn't tell whether Astalor was being his usual sarcastic self or whether he was genuinely attempting to help, but he decided that it was best to act as if were the latter. "Soon, but not yet. As angry as all of us might be at Illidan at the moment, he is training five of our best to be demon hunters. More importantly," he added after a moment, "he still has resources we can use, such as the unknown source of power he has more than once spoken of."

"If he can be convinced to share it," Rommath said.

"Illidan failed us In Northrend; he will feel obligated to give us recompense."

"Then let us hope that happens before his master arrives," Astalor said. "Considering the way Illidan seems to have used us as expendable grinding stones to wear down Arthas' forces, I would not be surprised if he plans to sacrifice us to Kil'jaeden along with the fel orcs."

"Of course Illidan is using us," Kael said, "but so will we use him in return. No matter what it takes—flattery or trickery or threats—I am determined to learn his secrets and force him to acknowledge his debt to us."

"Using such tactics is dangerous," Rommath said, stepping close enough that Kael could see the worry lines etching his features. _"Illidan_ is dangerous."

"I know," Kael said, thinking of Rommath's blood-soaked robe. "I haven't forgotten. I will keep my guard up, keep myself safe." He put his hand on Rommath's shoulder. "But I also know that as long as Illidan continues to think of us as naive, inexperienced children, he will continue to underestimate us."

"How long do you think you can play that game?" Rommath asked.

"As long as I need to," Kael said. "I will do whatever it takes to help our people."

**.**

First Akama, and then Vashj herself tried to bar his way, but in the end Illidan must have used his mental link with Vashj to tell her to allow Kael admittance to his chambers.

The room was dimly lit, and the air was heavy with a cloying incense which barely masked the smell of putrefaction. Against one wall, a flight of nine steps led up to a raised semicircular platform, upon which was a massive round bed. A Thalassian chandelier above the bed provided the room's only light, light softened by a gossamer bed canopy of the type found only in Silvermoon's most elegant houses.

As Kael approached, he noted with irritation that nearly a dozen of his people were present, a few tending to Illidan but most simply sitting on the floor around the bed. Kael was willing to concede that Illidan had been gravely injured in Northrend—Arthas' blade had cut the kaldorei deeply, and his wings were all but shredded in several places—but other than Lady Malande, who was a healer, Kael saw no reason for people such as Selin and Veras to be lounging around Illidan's bed like concubines. It was disgraceful.

"Ah Prince Kael'thas," Illidan said, his voice a barely-audible whisper, "so magnanimous of you… to allow so many of your people… to tend to my wounds… and stand guard over me… while I am in such a weakened condition." It was masterfully done. The frequent pauses suggested that Illidan needed to gather his energy simply to speak, and by emphasizing his weakness he ensured that Kael would look like a boor if he criticized any aspect of the situation.

Still, Kael had no intention of being outmaneuvered so quickly. "Might I speak to you alone, master?" he asked solicitously, almost choking on the last word. _Master._ What had happened to his people, that they had so quickly become attached to this manipulative, histrionic, half-naked demon?

"Of course." Illidan allowed his head to loll on the cushions for a moment, then said, "Leave us," to his entourage.

Kael tried not to allow himself to react to the sight of his people forlornly leaving Illidan's bedside. Selin smiled weakly; Zerevor and Veras could not even look Kael in the eye.

Once the room had emptied and Vashj's myrmidons had closed the doors, Illidan asked, "How may I be of service, young prince?"

"I have come to realize that, as demons go, you are exceptionally noble," Kael said. "Thus I know that you will keep your word, and bestow that which you promised us."

"What was it I promised?" Now Illidan did not sound nearly as weak. "I do not recall making any promises."

"But you did," Kael said more calmly than he felt. "You offered us alternate sources of magical power if only we would help you defeat Magtheridon. We agreed, and we aided you, but once Magtheridon was defeated, you put us off."

"As I told you at the time, you are not yet ready for such power," Illidan said. "As I recall, I then offered to teach the ways of the demon hunter to your people."

"An offer which so far has borne no fruit," Kael pointed out. "More recently, you requested that three hundred of my people accompany you to Northrend, on what you presented as a simple mission to destroy the Frozen Throne of the Scourge Lich King. Need I remind you how that expedition ended? With nearly all of my forces destroyed or warped into… into monsters?"

Illidan bowed his head. "For that, young prince, I am truly sorry."

Echoing Astalor's earlier words, Kael said, "What does self-reproach accomplish, Illidan?"

"It accomplishes nothing," Illidan said almost inaudibly.

"So I ask again, my lord," Kael said, now allowing some of his anger to show, "what will you do for my people, to make amends?"

_**.** _

The blessed light of Quel'Thalas, the golden boon that had once transformed everyone and everything it touched, was no more. Now, nights were painted in bleak shades of gray and black.

Pointless as it was, he had teleported first to the top of the Spire. Decades since he walked here, centuries since he lived here. He didn't expect to find anything—Tae'thelan and Belloc's reclaimers had clearly 'rescued' much more than tapestries—but still he wandered the rooms. On the balcony where he had last spoken to Eldin, broken glass crunched under his boots, and large, faintly luminescent night beetles scurried away from his step and the light of the verdant spheres. A sharp night breeze, unhindered, blew through the broken shutters of the spider-webbed stairwells, filling the once-glorious royal palace with the acrid smells of mold and decay, wood-rot and mildew. Most of the rooms were empty; the few pieces of furniture that remained were warped from rain, and mushrooms—night's parasol, maidenheart, moonlace—grew in almost every corner. He passed through the private library, its empty shelves like the ribs of a giant beast in the moonlight; his mother's study, the broken skylights above the absent alchemical bench holding jagged pieces of the night sky; his father's sitting room, its ornamental white stone fireplace sullied with drifts of brittle dried leaves; and the royal bedchamber, which, even devoid of furniture was much smaller than he remembered. He even climbed the small spiral staircase to the nursery, one of the highest rooms in the Spire, whose small lotus windows overlooked the strait between Sunstrider Isle and Quel'Thalas proper. Beyond the dark ruins and the doubled city wall, the lanterns of a few late-night business flickered like fireflies in the eastern half of Silvermoon City.

He wondered what sort of reception he would get if here appeared there now, in the wake of the news that Rommath—once again his herald—had brought. He liked to think that he had earned enough of the people's respect that the fiasco in Northrend would be taken as a grief that populace and prince could bear together, but it was more likely that, instead of being relieved that he had survived, they would accuse him of being a coward, as they had when he'd arrived in Silvermoon after his father's death.

Then again, once they saw the gift he had brought back for them from Outland, what guilt had wrung from Illidan…

There was a faint sound from the stair, and Kael reflexively shielded himself as he turned from the window.

"Prince Kael'thas." A small shadowy figure was standing against the wall furthest from Kael, hands held out to either side as if to assure him that she carried no weapons. "Lord Rommath asked us to keep a watch for you, and to deliver a message. He said to tell you that he will meet you at the place most meaningful to you here in Quel'Thalas." She bowed. "With your leave, I will now inform him of your presence." She then seemed to melt into a swirl of dark smoke and dissolve into the shadows.

**.**

Kael assumed that Rommath meant to meet either at the extinguished Sunwell or the Shrine of Dath'Remar; he decided to go first to the shrine, if only to pay his respects.

The upper part of the monument, overlooking the sea to the west of Sunstrider Isle, was hidden in the shadows of the overarching trees; only the hard lines of the base, solid black against the dark grey night sky, gave away its position.

There was no sign of Rommath. Kael stepped up to the plaque and ran his fingers over the letters of the inscription. It was too dark to see them, but he had no need: he'd had the words memorized for centuries.

_Here stands the shrine of Dath'Remar, a fitting tribute to a noble elf. Let all who gaze on this monument remember his sacrifices for our people and his dedication to the cause of our continued survival. All who prosper in Quel'Thalas do so thanks to him._

"Elor bindel felallan morin'aminor," Kael said quietly. "Vorath, Atherann, Valanar, Theraldis, Keleseth, Taldaram, Navarius, Tenris, Sandoval, Luthion, Vanthryn… Lana'thel." His grief swelled up again, and this time, because there was no one to see, no audience to remain strong for, he let the tears flow. "Wherever you are, whatever is left of who you were, you will not be forgotten."

He turned to go when he noticed a faint glimmer in the grass on the seaward side of the monument.

Moving closer, he saw that the symbol of the arcane eye had been incised into the earth and enchanted with a faint glow. He sat down to wait.

It was not long before a violet shimmer marked Rommath's appearance.

"Clever," Kael said, "Although as I recall you joined us after I left the mark at Runestone Falithas."

"Astalor told me about it on the way to Belore'endal," Rommath replied. "You left it for the Kirin Tor as a sign you'd waited for them there."

"He thought it was wasted effort. As it turned out, he was right."

"You had no idea that it was futile at the time," Rommath said. "It was a reasonable thing to do, and only took a few seconds."

"Have you been spending time with Voren'thal?" Kael asked. "That sounds like one of his epigrams. _'Be mindful of the present and the future will never have reason to criticize the past.' "_

"Something like that." Rommath sounded like he was smiling.

"Your messenger said you had much to tell me," Kael said. "I have good tidings as well."

"Oh? Did Illidan honor his promise?"

"We'll have to go to Quel'Danas to make certain."

"I'll make a portal," Rommath said, beginning the cast.

"Let's walk," Kael said, putting a hand on Rommath's arm. "You can tell me everything on the way."

"Cruel of you to make me wait." Rommath pretended to be annoyed as he slung the strap of a small bag he was carrying over his shoulder and began to pick a path down the cliff from the Shrine to the shoreline below.

"What have you brought?" Kael asked, following him.

"A letter that came to Silvermoon for you, and a decanter of Saltheril Special Reserve in anticipation of your good news," Rommath said, struggling to keep his balance on the rocky scree of the uneven slope.

As they stepped onto the beach and began to walk, Kael realized that it was going to be a longer walk from the Shrine to the northern shore of Sunstrider Isle than he'd remembered. He knew that the sensible thing—or rather the honorable thing—to do would be to portal to Quel'Danas. Knowing what he did about Rommath's feelings, it was in some sense selfish, even transgressive, to draw out their time together—but then again, Kael had felt inconsolably lonely since Northrend. He genuinely enjoyed Rommath's company, and it was wasn't as if he was forcing the younger elf to stay.

Then too, it was a beautiful night. The narrow strip of sand was a pale ribbon in the darkness as they walked north, the sound of the sea to their left lapping the shore was rhythmic and soothing, and the breeze that swirled around them lifted strands of their hair like a puppeteer.

"I'm very curious about your letter," Rommath said, stopping to retrieve it from his bag. "The seal is quite powerful."

'You tried to open it?" Kael tilted the parchment envelope to examine the raised glyph of the seal in the dim greenish light cast by his verdant spheres.

Rommath snapped his fingers to conjure a small reading-spark. "No, but I did run an arcane analysis."

"You felt the letter posed some danger?"

"Addressed to you, but sent to Silvermoon? It seemed odd. The mail portal was installed at the Sanctum weeks ago."

"So it's from someone who doesn't know I've been spending most of my time in Outland," Kael said as they began to walk again. He felt a small flurry of anticipation; perhaps the letter was from Jaina? She certainly had the expertise to create a privacy glyph, but what would she have written to him about? No, it was mere wishful thinking. Jaina had no reason to write to him, and he knew it.

Resolving not to be disappointed when it turned out to be from someone else, Kael ran his fingertip over the glyph. It glowed blue-violet for a moment, then disappeared.

The letter was unsigned. The handwriting didn't look like Jaina's. Somewhat crestfallen despite himself, Kael silently began to read.

 _My dear fire-soul,_ it began, _I was surprised to hear that you traveled to Northrend recently. I visited it once myself; a cold place, to be sure, but fortunately I acquired a lovely blue scarf when I was there. Not quite as soft as the gold and purple one I lost years ago, but it does keep me warm. (Ah, forgive my babble! Glamours may make one appear youthful, but they cannot disguise the deterioration of the mind.)_

_I was sad to hear about your father and brother; I've heard many praise them over the years, and regret that I never had the pleasure of meeting them. Perhaps fate will cause our paths to cross soon, so that I can catch up on everything that's transpired since I left? I'd love to hear about the special project you're working on, and I'm sure my sister would enjoy seeing you again._

"I think this is from my old teacher, Magna Telestra," Kael said. "Fire-soul was her term of affection, but most of what's written here doesn't make sense."

"Teacher?" Rommath smiled. "It's so difficult to imagine you as a student. Your mastery of magic has always seemed so all-encompassing." He cleared his throat, as if embarrassed. "You're not certain it's from her?"

"She says she never met my father, but I am certain she knew him quite well," Kael said. "Also, she refers to her sister, but in all the years I studied with her she never mentioned a sister." Kael refolded the letter. "Perhaps her mind really is deteriorating. She's at least as old as my father… was."

"Perhaps it's in code. May I see it?"

As Kael handed it over Rommath asked, "How long has it been since you heard from her?"

"Decades," Kael said. "She left Dalaran under mysterious circumstances before the end of the First War."

"She left Dalaran? Why?"

"She was critical of the Kirin Tor," Kael said, "and claimed that they had ostracized her. There was even some evidence that they tried to prevent me from training with her. Her name, and the name of a friend, were subsequently expunged from the Book of Records."

"That could explain the talk of a lost gold and purple scarf," Rommath said. "The sister might be the friend… Could Telestra have reconciled with the Kirin Tor?"

"I doubt it. Why do you ask?"

"Because she's impressively well-informed. She knew you were in Northrend, and the reference to a special project…" He folded the letter and handed it back to Kael. "There was an undated message from Archmage Modera waiting for me in Silvermoon. It was ostensibly an elaborate apology—which I didn't believe for an instant, of course—for her inability to, how did she put it, 'assist us in our recent difficulties,' but in actuality she wanted a favor. She and Drenden plan to rebuild Dalaran, and she wanted you to create another focusing crystal, like the one you made for Antonidas to rebuild the city after the Second War."

"How very interesting," Kael said.

"I regret that her letter did not survive my first reading," Rommath said, "but I assure you, it was a demand masquerading as a request."

Kael shook his head. "Astounding."

"I did wait nearly a day before replying to her," Rommath continued. "I told her that, her 'apology' notwithstanding, any allegiance that you might owe the city—or the Kirin Tor—had been cancelled by the days you spent awaiting execution in the city's prison." He asked, "Did I err in responding so disrespectfully on your behalf? Do you still consider yourself one of the Six?"

"No, not at all," Kael replied. "And I thank you for replying; I would have refused her much less diplomatically."

Rommath gave a small gratified hm. "I'm relieved to hear you say so. Modera destroyed any respect I had for her by leaving us to rot in the ruins; now I am free to consider her not even worthy of contempt." He added after a moment, "Your Magna Telestra intrigues me. To have angered the Kirin Tor and the Council so much that they struck her name from the registry? I've never heard of that happening to any other mage. She must have been extraordinary."

Rommath had a new air of assurance which Kael found quite engaging; the younger elf clearly was growing into his role as Grand Magister. Had the marks Rommath received from Illidan changed more than his skin, released some heretofore-hidden reserve of boldness, or had Kael simply not noticed what Rommath had in him all along? "Telestra was among those my grandfather sent to instruct the humans in the use of magic," Kael said. "When I first went to Dalaran, she was considered the foremost living arcanist. Sadly, I never saw her unleash her full power, but I can vouch for her excellence as a theorist and teacher."

"So can we all," Rommath said. "This is why the fact that someone so brilliant attempted to pass off their mention of scarves as senile babbling seems so curious; it's not credible as misdirection."

"Isn't it possible that Telestra meant an actual scarf?"

"Perhaps," Rommath replied.

They walked a dozen or so paces, their boots crunching in the wet sand.

"You have a theory," Kael prompted.

"Yes," Rommath said. "Northrend has traditionally been considered the home of the Blue Dragonflight and the lair of Malygos, the slumbering Aspect of Magic. Although sightings have been extremely rare, I suspect your mentor might have managed to make contact with them."

"Blue dragons?" Kael would have laughed, had Rommath not been so earnest. "You've become quite the collector of esoteric lore," he said instead. "Do you love knowledge for its own sake, or for the power it gives you?"

"Knowledge eliminates uncertainty," Rommath said. "I dislike uncertainty. I prefer to plan for as many contingencies as possible."

"Come now, I know you better than that," Kael said. "I still remember how you used to pore for hours over the moldy volumes in my workshop's library, doing everything short of literally devouring the pages."

"I suppose I did. But ignorance is dangerous. Secrets are dangerous. Wouldn't it be considered unacceptable and unfair if only one player was allowed to see the pieces on a game-board? Why should we approach life any differently?"

"It's not always best to have everything exposed to the blinding light of day, though," Kael said. "My brother Eldin had a hereditary disease slumbering in his blood from birth. My father and his doctors decided to keep it a secret, to guarantee that he had a normal childhood."

"They made assumptions about how those around him would react to knowledge of his disease," Rommath replied. "Those assumptions could have been wrong."

"I'm sure they considered that," Kael said. "They chose to keep the secret nevertheless. If Eldin had not become ill, their deception would never have been revealed. I was angry at first, but I have come to understood their reasoning. Once a secret is exposed, it can never be hidden again."

"That is true," Rommath said, "but by withholding the knowledge, _they_ decided what was best for your brother, and thus took your—and everyone else's—choice away."

Kael was suddenly tired of the topic.  If Eldin had remained healthy, he would have stood at Anasterian's side only to be slaughtered by Arthas. "That's what parents do. They make decisions that affect their children, in the same way sovereigns make decisions that affect their people."

Rommath didn't say anything for so long that Kael was certain he'd inadvertently touched upon some truth about Rommath's own family.

"Lor'themar is keeping a secret," Rommath said abruptly. "He and Halduron. Twice now I've walked in on a discussion that ended abruptly as soon as I appeared."

"They could have been discussing some ranger-only business," Kael offered.

"No," Rommath said. "I'm certain it's not that. Nor are they setting up a clandestine rendezvous, or discussing what solstice gift they're going to buy me. Whatever it is, it's important."

"Say something then," Kael urged. "Ask. After all, you are as responsible for Silvermoon as they; you three need to work together, and that requires a degree of trust."

Rommath shook his head. "If I tell them that I know that they are keeping secrets before I discover what the secrets are, they'll simply hide it better, be more discreet."

"And how will you discover what they're hiding?" Kael asked, sidestepping to avoid a vigorous breaker.

"I have my ways," Rommath said. He glanced up at the top of the cliff-face to their right.

"What's up there?" Kael asked.

Rommath didn't answer immediately, as if choosing his next words. "When you were in Dalaran," he said at last, "you had your father's guardians and the weight of the Kirin Tor as a deterrent to assassination."

For just an instant, Kael felt a flash of apprehension.

"With those deterrents gone, I have taken responsibility for ensuring that you need not worry for your safety as long as you are in Quel'Thalas."

"What are you talking about?"

"The messenger that met you in the ruins," Rommath said. He glanced back up the hill, then said very quietly, "She and her sisters call themselves duskwalkers. They're extraordinarily skilled at providing… protection services."

Kael chuckled. "I'm being protected by assassins?"

"They also excel at gathering information," Rommath said. "They offered to work for me, saying that they had an arrangement with Belo'vir. I was skeptical until they provided some astounding information about Sylvanas—information that was later inadvertently confirmed by Lor'themar."

Kael was puzzled. "Sylvanas?"

"Apparently," Rommath explained, "a large number of Arthas' victims were able to break away from the Scourge after being raised as undead. In doing so they regained their sentience and free will. I don't understand why, but it seems that they are very different from the mindless ghouls we fought in the past." He paused. "They have been gathered together and are now led by Sylvanas Windrunner."

"Sylvanas?" Kael was astounded. "But how can that be? All reports said—"

"That Arthas had ripped her spirit from her corpse and raised it as a banshee, yes, I know," Rommath said. "Yet, somehow, Sylvanas was able to reintegrate her spirit with her body. The priests I spoke to about it claim it couldn't possibly have been a resurrection, but they cannot explain what it was or how it was accomplished. All they can say with certainty is that she is still dead—or, more accurately, undead."

"When did this happen?"

"Around the same time as we were imprisoned in Dalaran, or shortly before. My source also tells me that, while we were in Northrend, Sylvanas killed Grand Marshal Garithos." He stopped. "Welcome news, though bittersweet."

"Does Sylvanas… does she wish to return to us?"

"I don't know," Rommath said, slowly. "Lor'themar said that the few dark rangers that have approached him claim to speak for her, but they will not answer his questions regarding her location or state of mind. All they say is that it is Sylvanas' wish to eradicate the Scourge that remain in Quel'Thalas and Lordaeron, and he has cautiously agreed to accept their assistance. We can only estimate the forces she might now have at her command; obviously, at one point there were tens of thousands in the capital alone. Of course, many of those perished—" He paused, then corrected himself, "—or rather, were destroyed, when they marched out as part of Arthas' Scourge army. Those that survived… the march through Quel'Thalas and the months following went into hiding after breaking free of Scourge control."

"The months following being those months that we hunted undead in Quel'Thalas and Lordaeron," Kael said. "It's understandable that they went into hiding; they must see the living as their enemies." He couldn't even begin to imagine such an existence.

"They made it clear to Lor'themar that Sylvanas and those she leads will initiate further contact with us if and when they choose; he's taken that as an indication that they value their privacy, and so has asked us give the Forsaken, as they call themselves, wide berth whenever possible."

"Forsaken. A curious choice of name. Who do they feel abandoned by? The Alliance? The Light? The Lich King?" Kael frowned. "At the very least, we must make sure that Sylvanas and the other elves among the Forsaken do not feel abandoned by Quel'Thalas."

"I do not think they do," Rommath said. "From what Lor'themar and the duskwalkers have told me of them, I believe that they are struggling to adjust to being between worlds, being neither dead nor fully of the living. When they were Scourge, they had no control, no free will; regaining their freedom, with no way to recover everything that they have lost, must be painful."

Kael thought of Lana'thel and the other San'layn, and grieved anew. "Most of these Forsaken were Lordaeron citizens. How is the Alliance treating them?"

"Well, we know how Garithos would have responded—he wants to exterminate anything that isn't human—but the forces he commanded in Lordaeron disappeared after his defeat," Rommath said. "It's unclear if these forces were killed or fled, however, so it remains to be seen what the remainder of the Alliance forces will do. Lor'themar is scheduled to meet with a dwarven ambassador next week; the topic of making a distinction between the Scourge and the Forsaken will undoubtedly be addressed."

"A dwarven ambassador? That is promising. They seem, as a race, much less provincial than humans."

"They also appear apologetic about how we were treated by Garithos; at the very least, Lor'themar ought be able to leverage that into civil treatment for Sylvanas and her Forsaken—especially if the high priestess and the archdruid can be persuaded to voice support as well."

"Why would Tyrande and Malfurion become involved?"

"There's a rumor that the kaldorei have joined the Alliance," Rommath replied. "I would have discounted it, but Lor'themar said he's had more than one report of Sentinels in Quel'Thalas."

"Doing what?"

"Discreetly observing, for the moment."

"Perhaps their druids are considering helping us to heal the damage the Scourge plague did to the animals and forest," Kael said.

"That's a possibility," Rommath nodded, "although if true it's odd they have not made contact with us. Botany rarely requires stealth."

The outline of Quel'Danas had risen slowly on the horizon to the north, a black shape against the dark grey sky. "It looks different," Kael said.

"Yes," Rommath said as he began casting a portal. "Lor'themar took down the west tower, and had a high wall built between the other three. Now the only access to the Sunwell, other than by flying in, is via the top floor of the north tower—and to even get to the north tower itself, you need to navigate a convoluted series of ramps in Parhelion Plaza and Terrace of the Sun. I'll take us directly to the Terrace."

Prior to the Scourge invasion, Quel'Danas had been the spiritual and cultural heart of the quel'dorei. Sun's Reach harbor, in a cove along the northern coastline, was where Dath'Remar and his Highborne exiles had made landfall six thousand years before; Dawnstar Village, in the northwest, had been the elves' first settlement; in the northeast, on a low bluff, was the first Sunstrider palace—in recent millennia converted to an academy for arcane learning and scholarship—and of course, at the center of the island, the Sunwell. Created by Dath'Remar from a vial of water from the mystic Well of Eternity, the Sunwell had been open to all quel'dorei; embraced by lush gardens, viewing terraces, and parkland, it had been watched over by arcane sanctums to the north, east, and south.

The Terrace of the Sun had been built as a semi-private outdoor extension of the north tower for the royal family. Kael knew that it had been the location of many of his happiest, most vivid childhood memories: playing games with Eldin; hearing professional musicians play for the first time; falling into the beautiful intricacies of other languages; and always, always, looking up at the mysterious, jewel-like towers of the Sanctum of Magisters on the hillside above him and dreaming of the day he would enter their storied halls.

But now those memories had faded, as leached of color and warmth as a drowned sparrow, and the terrace had become just another nondescript slab of stone in the darkness. He had a dim memory of how, as a child, he had often stood at the edge of the terrace, his chin on the railing, and looked south through the ornamental arches that led to the southern shore of Quel'Danas. In Dath'Remar's time the area south of the Sunwell had been unpopulated: to protect themselves from a sneak attack by the trolls on the mainland, the Highborne had built defenses of stone, but once they had pushed south into Quel'Thalas and raised Ban'dinoriel, the stone walls had been taken down and the doors removed from the massive elf-gates, leaving only ornamental arches—arches that Arthas and his undead swarm had knocked down as they had seared across the island.

The last time Kael had visited Quel'Danas, a month or so after the Extinguishment, it had been possible to look south from the terrace across the darkened Sunwell below, and see the hastily-constructed walls of stone that had been placed along Arthas' path to keep the Dead Scar's blight from infecting all of Quel'Danas. Kael recalled how the crooked lines of white stone had glowed in the sunlight like the bleached jawbone of some gargantuan animal.

Now, with the hulking wall that Lor'themar had erected around the perimeter of the Sunwell blocking his view, Kael couldn't seem to catch his bearings. As he walked along the edge of the terrace, he felt a sinking premonition of failure as he thought of the vial in his pocket. He gripped the stone railing. "Why did Lor'themar do all of this?" he asked Rommath. "Would walls and gates have stopped Arthas?"

"No, the Scourge had battering-rams," Rommath said quietly.

"So why build all this for something extinguished?"

"When I asked him why he closed off the Sunwell," Rommath said, "he became as offended as if—as if I had mocked him for covering the mutilated body of a loved one."

"Seeing it, knowing what it had once been, was too painful," Kael said. "Still, with the limited resources we have, it seems an expenditure of labor that could have been directed elsewhere—to continue the Silvermoon repairs, for example. Was this truly what the people wanted?"

"I'm not sure they were consulted," Rommath replied. "Lately he's had his hands full trying to deal with Renthar Hawkspear and Aurora Skycaller."

"Why?"

"They're leaders of a small group so opposed to the siphoning technique they won't even use it on mana wyrms," Rommath said. "A very disruptive element. Accusing those who do not follow their credo of taking the lives of innocent creatures. Hypocritical, as most of them eat meat and fish. And they refuse the crystals, claiming that there is no way to be certain that they don't come from living beings."

"Don't they know that those crystals are created by fighting demons in Outland? Or do they consider demons innocent creatures as well?"

"Oh, they know. Some object to that as well," Rommath replied dryly. "The 'Pure Mana Movement,' they call it. They're focusing entirely on the source—be it dumb creature or demon—and not the benefit—dead demons, stored magical energy. Then again, I'm not surprised; fanatics are rarely pragmatic."

"Are that many of our people so averse?" Kael asked. The last of his eagerness to show Rommath what he'd brought from Outland was dissipating; it sounded as if his people would reject the gift he carried as well, simply because it had come from Illidan.

"No, but there are always a few noisy citizens who criticize those in charge, no matter what the action or circumstance," Rommath said. "Such noisemakers are always searching for fresh topics of indignation, without any consideration of the chaos they cause."

"Is Lor'themar being blamed for… the Northrend campaign?" Kael asked.

Rommath considered for a moment before he answered. "A few of the less-grateful survivors have been very vocal in blaming Illidan for taking such a small force against Arthas."

"I see. And the rest blame me for following him."

"Astalor didn't intend to be so insulting," Rommath said suddenly. "He's been re-reading the unabridged journals of Dath'Remar—I came across the volumes just before I left Outland. He'd bookmarked the page with only three words."

Kael knew the page Rommath meant. Volume four, which covered Dath'Remar's journey from his homeland across the newly formed, uncharted sea formed by the Sundering, contained entries written when Dath'Remar had been wracked by the fear that he'd led his people to certain death on the vast, impersonal sea. Of those, the bleakest was an entry that said only _Hopeless. Powerless. Worthless._ That entry was customarily edited out of popular editions of the journals, as most considered it unseemly to show a legendary leader succumbing so completely—even if only temporarily—to despair. Kael, who had read and re-read the journals constantly since childhood, had always taken a small comfort from knowing that even Dath'Remar had such a moment.

"He's often said that he feels the most important measure of a person is what they do in response to failure or tragedy," Rommath said. "In his own way, I think that's what Astalor was attempting to do, trying to help you move ahead rather than sink into grief, because he admires you. He wants you to lead us."

"His admiration is uniquely abrasive," Kael said with a soft laugh.

"It can be," Rommath conceded, "but he's said to me more than once that he considers your most dangerous flaw to be the way you act as if you are the only one capable of shouldering responsibility for our people."

"Astalor feels I have no regard for his abilities?"

Rommath made a noncommittal sound, then said, "No monuments were built to them, and few pages of the journal entries mention them, so it's far too easy to forget that Dath'Remar had counselors."

Kael nodded. "It is not my intent to disparage anyone."

"To me, Dath'Remar's greatest accomplishment was his ability to convince our people to follow him to a strange, unknown land. You have that power in you as well, to shepherd and inspire us."

Revitalized, Kael said, "Let's go inside. I have something to show you."

**.**

As they walked toward the arched door that led into the upper room of the tower, the duskwalker dropped silently from the roof above them. Kael, momentarily startled, realized that she must have shadowed them along the beach and followed them through Rommath's portal.

As she crouched in front of the door, barely visible as a dark blur against the night's shadows, Rommath asked, "Is there a problem?"

"There was movement on the roof as you came up the ramp," she said. "Something large."

"And?"

"The tiles directly above where you had your conversation were warmer than those in adjacent areas," she said. "There were also deep scratches on the tiles. Fresh damage."

"Interesting," Rommath said. He looked up and over at the top of the wall that now surrounded the Sunwell. "A roosting phoenix would have been visible to us." Without explaining this cryptic remark, he turned to Kael and said, "Shall we continue?"

"A moment, Grand Magister," the duskwalker said. She melted through the dark doorway; an instant later there was a blinding flash of light. "All clear," she said, reappearing in the doorway holding up a small flare-stick. "There are bedrolls in the alcoves," she said. "At least two people are staying here."

"Are, or were?" Rommath asked.

"The lantern and the bedding are still warm," she said, "and there are traces of cooking smoke in the air. I estimate they left less than a half-hour ago."

Kael didn't notice any aroma, but the air in the tower was certainly much warmer than the outside air.

Rommath pulled back one of the tapestries on the right-hand wall to reveal a shallow alcove, in which was a small lantern, a clay bowl and cup, a bundle of clothing, and a rumpled bedroll. "They must be on the lower level," he said. "There's nowhere to hide up here, and this doorway is the only way in or out."

"They could have escaped to the roof," the duskwalker suggested wryly.

Kael found a similar nest behind the corresponding alcove-concealing tapestry on the left-hand wall. He moved to the open archway next to the alcove and, after peering down down into the darkness where the Sunwell slept, he glanced up. The high walls of the massive tower Lor'themar had built around the Sunwell were not capped by a roof; the stars of the night sky twinkled above. "Only if they can fly," he said.

The wall across from the entranceway had been knocked out and replaced with a corridor that curved out of sight. Rommath sent several light sparks out to light the way, and then they began to move cautiously along the corridor, which followed the curve of the outer wall counter clockwise as it gradually began to descend.

The duskwalker slipped past them to scout ahead, and was nowhere to be seen once they reached ground level.

"She's unsurpassed," Rommath said. "If there is someone hiding here, she'll find them."

Standing at the edge of the round dais that had once framed the Sunwell, looking down at the runic blessing written in ancient Thalassian along the perimeter, Kael felt a churn of emotion. Even though all signs of the battle with the Scourge and the trolls had been cleared away, he felt an overwhelming sense of dread, as if the walls surrounding him would fall inward any second, and bury him.

"My lord?" Rommath, frowning with concern, touched him lightly on the arm. "You said you had something to show me here?"

"Yes." Kael took a deep breath. He reached into his pocket and brought out the small crystal vial that Illidan had given him. In the faint light, the water it contained looked as gray and opaque as molten lead.

"What is that?" Rommath asked.

"According to Illidan," Kael said, his voice quavering slightly in anticipation, "it contains water from the Well of Eternity. Six thousand years ago, Dath'Remar used a vial of this same water to create the Sunwell."

"The Well of Eternity," Rommath said, his face radiant with awe. "Will it work? Will it restore the Sunwell?"

"It might. Illidan cautioned me that the passage of time might have dulled its power." His hands shaking, Kael peeled away the seal and began to loosen the stopper.

"Wait," Rommath said. "As eager as I am, as fervently as I hope that this will work—and as difficult as this is to say—it might be best to wait. My arcanists say that the ley-lines were damaged, fragmented by either the Corruption or the Extinguishment. They have been taking regular readings in hopes that the connections and flow will re-establish themselves over time."

Kael had come too far, built his hopes up too much, to do nothing. "Surely a single drop will do no harm? It might even hasten the repair."

Rommath looked momentarily doubtful, but then he nodded. "You could be right. Let us try."

His heart pounding, Kael walked to the center of the dais, carefully withdrew the stopper, and then tilted the vial just enough for a single drop to fall.

He had not let himself hope that the Sunwell would be restored to its full radiance, but he had at least expected something, a glow, a thrum, something. But there was nothing. Almost weeping with disappointment, he shoved the stopper roughly back into the vial. "Nothing. A fake. Illidan deceived me."

"I'm not so sure," Rommath said. "May I?" He held out his hand.

Kael, who wanted to throw the vial against the wall, handed it to Rommath instead.

As soon as the vial was in his hand Rommath gasped, and the tattoos on his arms glowed slightly. "Whatever this is, it is powerful," he said, sounding shaken. "Quickly! Take it back."

Puzzled, Kael, took the vial from Rommath's hand. "Odd… it has no effect on me, and I've carried it these past two days."

"Then you are meant to be its caretaker," Rommath said, still sounding as though he was trying to catch his breath. "Keep it safe until the ley-lines have healed; on that day we'll restore the Sunwell's glory."

Kael put the vial back into his pocket. "I suppose we're d—"

"Here!" The duskwalker's voice echoed from the shadows on the far side of the dais. "It's no use pretending I don't see you."

Rommath and Kael quickly sent lightsparks in her direction, an instant before one of her flares blazed near a curved support column. Two humans, a dark-haired male and a blonde female, crouched in the corner. The man moved in front of the woman, shielding her.

"I am Prince Kael'thas," Kael said. "Who are you, and why are you here?"

"Are you the one Lord Theron spoke of?" the man asked. He radiated defensive tension; his hand was on the hilt of a small dagger at his hip.

"That depends. What did Lor'themar say about me?" Kael glanced at the duskwalker; like the man, she was poised to attack, and was certainly lethal, but at Kael's nod she took a step back. "This place is revered by my people," Kael told the two humans, "but has seen far too much bloodshed in the past few years. I do not wish to sully it with yours."

The man looked surprised. After a moment his posture relaxed slightly, and he turned his head to speak to the woman behind him. "I think we can trust him."

"You can," Kael said, extending a hand as the two crept forward and then slowly stood, squinting against the light. Both were younger than Kael had thought at first glance. The man was not yet thirty, and the blonde woman…

Kael blinked. For a moment he had thought he was seeing Jaina, as young as she had been the day they met, but then he realized that it was only a superficial resemblance. This young woman, timidly half-hiding behind her companion's shoulder, lacked Jaina's confidence and spirit.

"This is Miss Teague," the man said. "I am… her protector. We were pursued by relentless and powerful enemies until the Regent Lord gave us sanctuary. He and the rangers promised to keep our presence in your lands a secret."

Rommath made a small, thoughtful sound, and eyed the two with additional interest.

Kael noted with interest that the man, who he had at first taken to be entirely human, was in fact half elf—although that in and of itself did not explain Lor'themar's actions, or why the two were fugitives. "Grand Magister Rommath and I will keep your secret as well," he said. "I give you my word."

.

They teleported back to Silvermoon, to Rommath's office in Sunfury Spire. The dimly-lit building seemed eerie at this hour of the night, empty of all but the occasional echoing footfall from the sentries.

The duskwalker nodded to Rommath, gave a small bow, and then slipped away, closing the office door behind her.

Rommath was pensive. "I don't understand why he didn't tell me," he said. He unslung the bag from his shoulder and took out the unopened decanter of Saltheriel Special Reserve.

"Perhaps it truly is what it seems, a minor matter that Lor'themar felt you needn't be bothered with."

"And yet…" Rommath gripped the neck of the bottle with both hands. "I have the oddest feeling that it is important. Why else would he promise to keep their location secret? There would be no need if they were fleeing genuine persecution."

"True." Kael frowned. "Very true. Would Lor'themar shield criminals?"

"On general principle, no. He's a very straightforward, upstanding person," Rommath said as he twisted the wax seal off the bottle. "He has turned out to be an excellent choice for Regent Lord; we should congratulate ourselves."

"You like him more than Astalor does," Kael said, taking the small glass of liquor that Rommath poured for him.

"I simply understand him better than Astalor does," Rommath said.

"A toast," Kael said, raising his glass. "To understanding, to our wisdom in selecting Lor'themar, to Sylvanas and her not-to-be-Forsaken, and to the pleasures of saying 'no' to Modera."

Rommath clinked his glass against Kael's. "To the death of our nemesis Grand Marshal Garithos, and to the precious gift you brought us from Outland." He tossed back the contents of his glass.

As he watched Rommath refill his glass, Kael took a sip, savoring the complex, delicate flavors as he let the mouthful of liqueur trickle down his throat. It occurred to him that, at the moment, both his lips and Rommath's would taste of Special Reserve.

And then he chastised himself. It didn't matter that Rommath was attractive, or that he most likely would welcome Kael's advances; Astalor would see it as coercion and a betrayal of trust. "I think it's time for me to go," Kael said. "Thank you for the letter, and the other news."

"Yes," Rommath said, as uneasily as if he'd been able to hear what Kael had been thinking. "I'll let you know if I find out any more about the mysterious Miss Teague and her guardian. Or any other secrets that the Regent Lord may be keeping from us."

**.**

The night held one final surprise. An elderly elf sat by the Outland portal, a book in one hand and a candle in the other, reading. He looked up as Kael approached.

"Master Voren'thal," Kael said. "It's… very late."

"Yes, it is," Voren'thal said tartly as he handed the candle to Kael, closed his book, and stood. "You kept me waiting an unacceptably long time."

"Waiting?" Kael asked. "Waiting for what?"

"To join you in Outland and follow your path to greatness, of course."

Considering the hour—it was nearly dawn—and Voren'thal's age, Kael thought it best not to argue. He suspected that a night spent tossing and turning on the Sanctum's thin mattresses, with the fel stink of Shadowmoon Valley in his aristocratic nostrils, and the old poet would most likely receive a new vision. One that would require his return to Silvermoon.

.

Gradually, Kael's grief began to fade under the banality of day-to day existence. Rommath kept him appraised of minor happenings in Silvermoon, and Pathaleon, his robes powdered with stone dust and arms full of architectural drawings, met with Kael nearly every day to review the progress on Firewing Point, their settlement in the easternmost section of the forest. The first stage would comprise five buildings—a conservatory, a dormitory, a sanctum, and two multi-purpose buildings—around a central plaza. Pathaleon promised that, as the water in the river was potable and the forest had abundant wildlife, Firewing could easily expand to the west, adding one or more residential villages. "We could house several hundred," Pathaleon said, often. "Not luxuriously, of course, but in reasonable comfort."

"Where are you getting the stone for the construction?" Kael asked. "Are you quarrying the mountains in that area?"

"Telonicus is only too happy to get rid of the stone he is excavating from Zangar for Lady Vashj's project; he thinks he can send it to me faster than I can use it."

"He's oddly competitive at times," Kael said wryly. He studied Pathaleon's terrain map. "What are those markings along the southern border of the forest?"

"One is an abandoned orc settlement, and other is the quel'dorei outpost."

"And these?" Kael pointed to a cluster of wavy lines at the junction of two rivers to the west of Firewing, and then to two large, faintly drawn semicircles along the upper left and bottom of the map. "More orc settlements?"

"No," Pathaleon said, "based on the architecture we believe that they are ruins belonging to a third race, possibly one exterminated by the orcs. This area," he pointed to the wavy lines, "has a small population of squatters. Scavengers. Akama's people, according to the scouting reports. The two circular ruins are entirely abandoned."

"There are Broken near Firewing as well?" Kael sighed and folded his arms. "The forest is beautiful, Pathaleon, but I think we all are weary of non-elven neighbors."

"Firewing Point will have formidable defenses," Pathaleon said.

"I am glad to hear it," Kael said, "for our people desperately need a place where they can feel safe. A second home, far from orcs and humans and demons."

"That would indeed be paradise," Pathaleon said, nodding. "Quel'Thalas reborn."

.

Kael woke to find the Sanctum ablaze with light and frenetic with activity. "What has happened?" he asked Capernian as she rushed past.

"We've just received word from the Temple," she said, and Kael realized that her face was shining with undried tears. "The five elves that were training with Illidan… there's been an accident."

 _No,_ Kael thought. _How much more misfortune can we bear?_

"We don't have all the details," Capernian continued. "Lady Vashj sent word that Varedis is near death, and three…" Her lip trembled. "Three are dead." She wiped at her face. "Leotheras is missing. They say he fled after killing the others, but he would never do something so terrible!"

Kael put his hand on Capernian's shoulder and squeezed it in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "Take heart. We'll find him," he said, but when she had nodded and moved away he clenched his fists, furious that Illidan had let such a thing happen.

.

A hastily-drawn map of Outland was spread in the middle of the sanctum floor; Telonicus was placing stones to indicate areas to which teams of searchers had been assigned. "We're concentrating on Terokkar and Hellfire first," Pathaleon said to Kael, "with the assumption that he didn't have time to go far."

"What if he, what if he…" Capernian was nearing complete breakdown. "What if he's thrown himself over the edge, into the void?" She shook with soundless sobs.

"I doubt it," Astalor told her, not ungently. "The demon possessing him won't want to die. It will prevent him from harming himself."

"When did this occur?" Kael asked. "How far could Leotheras have gone?"

"We don't know," Pathaleon said. "Selin and Zerevor reported that the trial the initiates were undergoing started several days ago, before we left for Northrend, and that no one at the Temple can say for certain when Leotheras might have broken out of the cave." He glanced at Capernian, then added more quietly, "He could have several days head-start; if that's the case, we may never find him unless he wants to be found."

Sealed in a cave… horrifying. "Were the initiates transformed physically, the way Illidan is?" Kael asked. "Does Leotheras have wings?"

"As an elf, no," Astalor said, joining the conversation after having handed Capernian off to be comforted by her friends. "However, Solarian says that if the demon possessing him is able to gain enough control, Leotheras might metamorphose and temporarily manifest physical wings while the demon is ascendant."

"Then Leotheras could be anywhere," Kael said. "Broaden the search. I'll start with the eastern half of Vashj's Zangar sanctuary, and work my way north."

"Take someone with you," Astalor said. "If Leotheras has turned into a second Illidan, he's deadly."

**.**

Sarannis had a dragonhawk waiting when he got outside; as Kael mounted and rose into the air, Al'ar flew down from the roost atop the sanctum and joined him.

As they cleared the hills northwest of the sanctum, Thaladred caught up to them and asked, "East Zanger?"

Kael knew only two things about Thaladred: that he had been seriously injured protecting Lana'thel during Garithos' mass arrest of the elves, and that he was exceptionally taciturn. "Yes."

As they flew northwest through Shadowmoon Valley, passing over pits of fel lava and fumaroles of ash, Kael grimaced with disgust. The charred landscape oozed fel energy like a suppurating, gangrenous wound, and as the first treetops of the great forest of Terokkar came into view, he could understand why Pathaleon and Telonicus had sent so many searchers there; the dense vegetation made it almost impossible to search for Leotheras from the air.

Still, the treetops were a balm for the eyes,  and Kael reminded himself to commend Pathaleon for choosing to build their settlement there.

They crossed into Zanger, and flew east across the water. Thaladred had said nothing more, and so Kael was alone with his thoughts. He kept wondering what Leotheras might be feeling. To be locked in the dark, then possessed by a demon… what a horrible violation that must have been. And then to discover his fellow initiates dead, or nearly so—had it been fear, or rage, or grief that had empowered him to batter his way out of the cave, probably with his bare hands? And now he was stumbling through a hostile wilderness alone, all alone, aware of harboring a creature of pure malicious evil within himself… Kael shuddered. Whether Leotheras had indeed killed the other three, or whether they had done themselves in, perhaps death had been a blessing.

A nearly-impassable barrier rose from the eastern shore of the Zangar sea, a sheer cliff studded with huge thorn-like spears of stone. Kael pulled his dragonhawk up. The top of the cliff was choked with even more spikes, a bristling thicket. Kael doubted that Leotheras could have climbed over such obstacles, but if he had flown—

"Perhaps we should search the western shore?" Thaladred said.

Kael nodded, but then noticed Al'ar. The phoenix was hovering above the top of the cliff, tossing its head and trumpeting impatiently; once it saw that it had Kael's attention, it circled and headed north, over the spikes and out of sight. "Let's follow," Kael said.

The spiky landscape gradually receded, giving way to a more arid version of Terokkar. Kael saw several fortress-like buildings in the distance, and tried to remember what Akama had said about the area. Something about ogres, and strongholds, and danger. Directly below them a stone bridge ran west to east over a deep, wide ravine; below the bridge, on the floor of the ravine, were small buildings; to the north were more spikes. Could Leotheras have come this way?

Thaladred pointed down, and Kael glimpsed a road winding through the forest east of the bridge. As Al'ar was already gliding in long circling loops over it, Kael and Thaladred urged their dragonhawks in that direction.

They passed over a forested area, past more spikes, and then came upon a long, narrow plateau whose southern extremity was dotted with huge blue-green crystals. The crystals looked intriguing, and Kael made a second mental note that someone should come back and explore the area more fully later.

Al'ar had now turned to follow the plateau north. In between the clumps of stony spikes Kael saw isolated bits of odd machinery, arches sparking with a pinkish electricity, small narrow metal towers centered on runes, glowing glass cubes and radiant spheres, but the technology was completely unfamiliar to him. He wondered what Telonicus would make of it.

He and Thaladred continued to scan the ground for any sign of Leotheras. Now and again Kael did see what he assumed were dead animals—strange, winged serpent-like creatures—but there was no way to tell if they had been killed by Leotheras or by the as-yet-unseen inhabitants of this 'dangerous' area.

And now Al'ar wheeled off to the right, eastward again, and again Kael and Thaladred followed, this time over a range of rocky hills and down into a dense green landscape.

Where Shadowmoon was like a burnt corpse reeking of fel energy, this new land was lush and vibrant, teeming with life—and far from being poisonous, the air was brisk with the electric buzz of raw magical energy. Kael breathed deep, with growing delight, as they continued east, marvelling. Shimmering pools flashed beneath stands of tall trees; red, blue, and yellow flowers speckled amoung the myriad shades of green; and everywhere was the movement of birds, butterflies, and the shadowy forms of larger animals. It was wilder and more luxuriant than the serene beauty of Eversong, but for all that it was still a paradise.

"How odd," Kael said. "Isn't this the area that Akama said had poisonous air and water? Wouldn't such a place be barren and lifeless?"

"Instant death is what he claimed we would find here."

"He must have been misinformed."

"Or he wanted to keep us out of this area for some reason," Thaladred said ominously.

Kael was about to ask what possible reason Akama could have to misdirect them when he saw something that left him speechless and gaping, thunderstruck.

A huge building, shaped like a jeweled candelabra, floated in the void just past the edge of the world. At its center, a round platform with a raised edge held a towering amethyst crystal upright in an ornate gold setting that looked like nothing so much as a stylized pair of reverent hands. Around the perimeter of this platform, four oval structures held smaller crystals of blue topaz, chalcedony, and rose quartz, each connected to the center by the glowing branches of what looked like the buds of golden flowers. Each bud was in constant motion, furling and unfurling, pulling faint strands of violet lightning down out of the sky like a weaver spinning thread. Next to Silvermoon, the massive structure was the most beautiful sight Kael had ever seen.

His destiny became clear at last. As Dath'Remar had once led the Highborne from the hostile kaldorei, so would Kael would lead the sin'dorei from the corrupted night elf Illidan's domain in Shadowmoon Valley, across forest and sea and mountain, to this verdant land of New Quel'Thalas.

 

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_~ Next chapter: Paradise ~_

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_ first post 26 November 2015; rev 22 Oct 2017 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, my grateful thanks to **Bryn** for beta-polishing (and for being willing to take a sledgehammer to the manatubes and the nearly-naked elves! *g*); to **Mipe** , for reminding me of magister mind control, Garithos' death, Lor'themar's knowledge of Sylvanas, and Sylvanas' part in assisting Anveena and Kalec; and to **Jack of None** , for weighing in on the One Drop Fixes Everything trope.
> 
> The area known in Burning Crusade as Netherstorm didn't always look that way. Vargoth mentions that the area around Kirin Var "used to look like Westfall,"so I have described the zone, , when the elves first arrive, as looking more like WoD's northeastern Gorgrond.


	16. Grand Magister's Asylum (Kael'thas), Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the fates of the first sin'dorei demon hunters put a strain on his alliance with Illidan, Kael pursues his dream of creating a utopia in Netherstorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OCs: The ethereals that appear in this chapter are OCs; everyone else is canon.
> 
>  _Deceiver_ has been written without reading William King's _Illidan_ novel. My apologies for any inadvertent deviations from that newest addition to Warcraft canon.
> 
> A final note: A reminder that at this point in the history of Outland, the 'northeastern zone' looks more like WoD's Everbloom Wilds than Burning Crusade's Netherstorm.

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~ : |16| : ~

 _"Not what I had planned…"_  
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Ah, so you've defeated Delrissa, my Shivan priestess.

You'll forgive me if I do not applaud your persistence; with Delrissa gone you'll find that only a few demons are preventing you from reaching me. Do you intend to recite a list of my so-called crimes and sins before you kill me? Or will you bypass the niceties and simply stab at me until I fall, then traipse back triumphant to the cowards who sent you here?

It's almost amusing, the scope of your ignorance.

Delrissa and I will return, you see. The shivarra's devotion to Kil'jaeden is such that I do not doubt she'll find some way to come back from the dead, and then stitch me back together and drag me back as well. Impossible? Hardly. Surely you're aware that all but the most lowly minor demons don't actually die, at least not in the usual sense of the word. Just as a lich is invulnerable so long as its hidden phylactery is undisturbed, so a demon's essence—I do hesitate to use the word soul— resides in a separate plane of existence, giving them virtual immortality. When defeat seems imminent and inescapable, they generally abandon physical form and return to the Twisting Nether.

What happens after that, how they then acquire a new body in order to return to the physical plane, is not known to me; for all that you consider me monstrous and evil and look at me with hatred and loathing, I am not a demon myself. Am I Wretched? Yes. Dead? Somewhat. Demonic? Not at all. As to whether or not I am evil... that is a matter of perspective. As… questionable as some of my methods may have been—and yes, I am admitting that at times my judgements were not the best, and I did make one blunder that I sincerely regret—my intentions have been above reproach.

This said, let me once again impart to you a lesson learned, something that my dear Vashj taught me. The archer always intends for their arrow to reach its target, but accepts that it is not sufficient merely to aim. Conditions out of one's control at times affect the outcome, causing some arrows to fall short or miss entirely. The best archers are not disheartened by this: they make adjustments and shoot again and again, sometimes even letting a normally impossible shot fly, until, at last, the arrow finds its mark.

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~ I ~

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As eager as Kael was to show his people the wonders of the northern zone and its marvelous floating cathedral, his first priority was Leotheras, and so he and Thaladred turned their dragonhawks around, retraced their route west and then south toward Zangar to continue the search.

As they crested the stone spines and descended toward the water, they saw a dozen or so elves ranged along the near shore, while others on dragonhawks were flying away in various directions.

"What is this?" Kael asked, bringing his dragonhawk to hover near the closest elf, an arcanist who he thought was called Savan.

"Vashj sent a messenger to the sanctum, my lord," Savan replied, "saying that Leotheras escaped into the sea."

"And you stand here doing nothing?" Kael demanded. "Will you wait until his drowned body floats to the surface?"

Savan and many other elves looked shocked—although one, one some distance down the line, folded his arms and looked away.

"Something to say, Dathris?" Thaladred asked him sharply.

Dathris shrugged, then shook his head.

"It is a minor detail hardly worthy of your attention, my lord," Savin said smoothly, "but Grand Engineer Telonicus pumped air into most of the underwater caverns weeks ago, to allow us to begin construction of the reservoir mechanisms. Leotheras is likely hiding in one of those areas, and thus unlikely to drown."

"And if he is not? What then?" Kael asked. He knew he was reacting unreasonably, but he disliked being shown to be so uninformed about Telonicus' project for Lady Vashj. Granted, Northrend and its aftermath had consumed all of his attention in recent weeks—and rightly so—but it was galling that no one had informed him that what had sounded as though it would involve only a few hours' consultation had grown into something grandiose.

"Vashj's people are searching the caverns," Savan said. "We are watching the perimeter of the lake in case Leotheras slips past those below."

"What makes you think he will come back to dry land? If his demon can manifest wings, could it not enable him to breathe water?" Kael asked. "He could elude us forever if he decided to hide in the sea."

Savan looked entirely chastised. "I… we didn't think of that, my lord."

Thaladred shook his head. "I do not think that need be a concern. No demon would willingly tolerate prolonged contact with such pure water as this; it would rather abandon Leotheras' body and flee back to the Twisting Nether."

"I see." Kael nodded. "Then you and I should help watch the shore as well."

As they headed northwest over the silvery surface of the water, Kael said, "I have never before heard the claim that demons dislike water."

When Thaladred did not answer, Kael glanced at him; the other elf was frowning. "I suppose I must have read it somewhere," he said after a moment.

"Strange choice of reading material for a warrior," Kael replied.

"My father intended for me to become a priest," Thaladred said. "I disappointed him until the day he died."

Such a familiar story: a son withering under what he perceived to be his father's disapproval. "Did he ever say so outright?"

"No, but there was no need. I knew his opinion of me. Daily, I felt his disdain."

"His outer harshness might not have represented his true feeling," Kael said. "Deep emotions are often difficult to express."

Thaladred nodded. "Perhaps."

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There was a message at the Sanctum from Selin, saying that Varedis' condition was stable. With this worry tabled for the moment, Kael and his elves searched non-stop for Leotheras, for once grateful that Outland had no true night.

Team after team came back apologetic and hollow-eyed.

On the third day after the news of Leotheras' disappearance, Kael and Thaladred were flying their usual search pattern around and across the Zanger Sea when Vashj and a dozen of her people broke the surface of the water below them.

"Lady Vashj!" Kael called down to her as he reined in his dragonhawk. "What news?"

"We have him," she said. "Lord Illidan's missing student."

"Excellent! Where is he?"

"In our care," Vashj said.

The brevity of that answer was mildly alarming. "Please take me to him."

"There is little to see," Vashj replied. "He was so violently agitated from struggling to control the demon that possesses him that he needed to be restrained; once that was accomplished, we temporarily banished the demon so the elf could rest."

"So he is no longer possessed? That is good news indeed!"

"Do not celebrate just yet, young prince," Vashj said. "What we have done is only a mitigation, not a cure."

"I see," Kael said. It was disappointing—but not unexpected—that helping Leotheras wasn't to be a simple matter. "I would like to see him."

"As you wish." Vashj gestured to one of her sorceresses. "We will portal you directly to him."

Kael turned to Thaladred, then noticed the warrior holding his hand out. "Yes?"

"I will take your dragonhawk back to Sanctum," Thaladred said, "and inform the others that Leotheras has been found. Lady Vashj can be trusted to keep you safe from harm."

"Why, thank you," Vashj replied, sounding amused.

As Kael handed over the reins of his dragonhawk, Thaladred whispered grimly, "We must discover the nature of the ordeal that Illidan asked his students to undertake, if sleep and death were the only escapes."

"I plan to ask him that," Kael replied, "once I have seen Leotheras." With a final reassuring pat to his dragonhawk, Kael slid off the saddle and dropped down into the portal hovering above the water.

He found himself in an unexpectedly temple-like chamber, so large that, if not for the stagnant, humid air, he would have thought he was aboveground. On a raised dais several paces in front of him, three robed Broken were channeling a green-tinged spell into a luminous greenish cloud; beyond them, behind the green banners and ornate tents, a wide stone wall decorated with strange symbols—what appeared to be eyes trailing sinuous tentacles—rose so high that its upper reaches, like the temple's ceiling, were lost to shadow.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"The Serpent Shrine of Coilfang Reservoir," Vashj said.

"Impressive," Kael said. To his right, between massive stone columns, he glimpsed a misty cavern, the source of faint echoing metallic clangs, deep rumbling, and the sound of splashing water. Behind him, a few steps down from the platform on which he and Vashj stood, was an area that seemed to be a camp for workers; small campfires burned in front of tents and racks of beds and hammocks, and ladder-like scaffolding leaned against the rough stone walls.

"Quite a feat of construction, to excavate and build structures of this size beneath the sea."

"Thank you." Once again he had the sense that there was a nuance in her expression and tone that he was failing to understand, some elusive deeper meaning. "Credit also your clever engineers. They have been most inventive—indeed, have put my engineers to shame."

Kael was about to ask Vashj where Leotheras was being kept when there was a flicker of movement in the green cloud. For an instant, just an instant, the random swirls in the cloud coalesced into a monstrous winged figure; when it was gone it seemed to leave behind the faint outline of a crouching figure, down on one knee as if exhausted or defeated.

"Is that… Leotheras?" Kael asked. "Lady, when you said that you had banished the demon so that Leotheras could rest, I thought that he would be…"

The menacing shape appeared again for a few seconds, and then vanished.

Vashj shook her head. "Unfortunately, young prince, naga magic is not that selective, or that powerful. This demon is not so easily controlled."

"What are we seeing here?' Kael asked.

"A battle for dominance."

Kael was aghast. "We cannot leave him in these straits!"

"As I said, it is only a temporary solution," Vashj said. "The demon will return the moment my Greyhearts stop channeling. Banishment gives him a respite from struggling in the material plane, and protects his physical body until Lord Illidan can reverse the possession."

"I appreciate what you have done, " Kael said, "but I want to take Leotheras and Varedis back to Silvermoon. Our healers—"

"No!" Vashj said, then continued more gently, "If you could have seen how violent he was before, how much the waters of this place have already calmed him since his arrival… you would allow him to stay here a while longer."

"I cannot—"

"Lord Illidan has been most distressed by these events…" Vashj said, sounding almost as if she were pleading. "Please, allow him to heal his student."

"How can you be so certain he will find a solution?" Kael asked, trying to remain patient.

"Illidan endured darkness and silence for ten thousand years," Vashj said, "clinging to life and sanity. He is not one who gives up easily."

"He is fortunate to have such a steadfast ally, Lady Vashj."

"I consider myself your ally as well," she said, "and so, for your sake as well as Lord Illidan's, please allow me to tend to Leotheras indefinitely."

Kael decided not to press the matter; there was no telling what the demon would do when released from banishment. Then too, transport to Silvermoon might be problematic; better to bring priests here from Silvermoon. He bowed. "Thank you, my lady. I appreciate all that you have done for him."

"You will wish to see the other student," Vashj said. "He is at the Temple; I will open a portal to him."

Kael didn't need to ask how she knew Varedis's exact location: because of her telepathic bond with Illidan, what one knew and saw and heard, the other knew and saw and heard as well.

He should take more care to keep that in mind.

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Vashj's portal took him to a spacious open-air landing. Kael knew by the color of the stonework and the dark sky churning overhead that he was somewhere on the grounds of Illidan's Temple, but the large circular reflecting pool in the center of the landing and the white-trunked goldenbough trees along the perimeter looked as if they had been transplanted from Eversong Woods.

Tables with alchemical and apothecary equipment stood next to two quel'dorei tents. One tent was empty; in the other, a blond-haired elf with a black blindfold over his eyes lay on a pallet.

Varedis.

Kael hurried to him and knelt down. Though Varedis' body was marked with jagged swathes of black, similar to Illidan's fel markings, his chest rose and fell with the even breaths of normal sleep, and his color was good.

There was a noise to Kael's left, and he peered out of the tent. A ornate fiery headdress was rising from the terrace below the landing, as if the wearer were ascending the stairs; a moment later a face—grey-skinned, austerely beautiful—came into view, then wide, spiked shoulder armor topping a feminine torso of such proportions that she must be impressively tall, nearly twice the height of an elf. Kael took her for a naga when he saw the blur of her six arms, but as she and a second, blue-skinned figure reached the top of the stairs, Kael saw that they had, not the serpentine lower bodies he had anticipated, but legs.

And with them, Selin Fireheart.

Selin hurried toward Kael. "My lord," he said, "I had no idea you would visit so soon!" He turned to his two companions and introduced Kael in what sounded very much like demonic, then turned back and said, as the two six-armed creatures folded their arms over their chests and inclined their heads, "This is Mother Shahraz, leader of the Shivarra, and her acolyte Priestess Delrissa."

Kael bowed in return and asked, "You speak their language?"

"I like to think I have made some progress, yes," Selin said with a proud smile, "It was such an honor to be chosen by Lord Illidan to be instructed as their translator." He glanced at the tent. "You are here to see Varedis?"

Setting aside for the moment his surprise that Illidan had conscripted Selin, Kael said, "I have seen him. I was shocked to find him being treated so negligently."

Selin looked surprised. "Neglected? No, no, not at all, my lord! He has been treated with utmost gentleness and skill! The shivarra healed his wounds, then gave him an elixir of deep sleep so that he could more quickly regain his strength."

"I see." Kael glanced back at Varedis. "Still, to relegate him to a dingy blanket laid on cold stone instead of a bed…"

"It was my suggestion to place him here, out in the open air," Selin said quickly, "because the private rooms inside the Temple are… well, trust me, it's far more pleasant out here. Delrissa and I check his condition several times an hour."

Kael was not convinced that the care was adequate, and yet he couldn't say why. "Has Lady Malande seen him?"

"Oh yes," Selin said. "She was most impressed with Delrissa's methods."

Making a mental note to verify this later, Kael said, "Please express my thanks to the shivarra, and ask them when they think Varedis will awaken."

"When do any of us awaken?" a familiar voice chimed in from Kael's left. "When we have finished dreaming."

Kael turned to see Illidan descending the stairs from the terrace above the landing, surrounded by a group of sin'dorei that included Malande, Zerevor, and Solarian. Kael was about to remark that he doubted Varedis' current dreams were pleasant, but then Illidan said, "Vashj told me that you would be gracing us with your presence."

Kael was momentarily taken aback by the hint of hostility in Illidan's tone, until he realized that, because of his link to Vashj, Illidan had been an invisible spectator during Kael's visit to Coilfang. Was Illidan offended that Kael had expressed shock at Leotheras' state, and skepticism about Illidan's ability to find a cure? So be it. Kael had trusted him with the stewardship of sin'dorei lives, and, as in Northrend, that trust had been repaid with death and disaster. As impressive as Illidan's speeches were, as imposing as his physical form was, his actions fell far short of glorious.

Truly, if anyone had grounds for anger, it was Kael—Illidan's broken promises and unrelenting condescension were becoming less tolerable by the day. Not that Kael intended to reveal this. He was resolved to follow the advice Telestra had given him so long ago regarding the Kirin Tor: if you suspect someone is using you, pretend to be oblivious to their manipulations. Gather information about their ultimate goal, allow them to think of you as their witless pawn, and bide your time until all becomes clear. "Yes, I wanted to see Varedis," Kael said as Illidan and his entourage approached. "After seeing Leotheras' state, I was fearful for a moment that his condition would be as bad, or worse."

"Oh?"

"Of course, now that I see the miraculous recovery you yourself have made from the nearly-mortal wounds you suffered in Icecrown, I realize that I need not have worried."

Illidan was silent for a few beats. "My shivarra are eminently skillful healers."

"Indeed they are." Kael turned to Mother Shahraz and Priestess Delrissa, and performed his most courtly bow.

As Selin murmured to the two, Kael turned back toward Illidan. "I understand that you are training Selin as a translator. May I ask why?"

"Very few of your people understand Eredun."

"Is there a need for such fluency?"

"Your people's thirst for knowledge is impressive," Illidan replied, typically cryptic.

"Selin is not the only pupil?" Kael asked.

"We are only instructing those who would otherwise be idle."

"I hardly think—"

"My apologies, your highness," Illidan said with exaggerated politeness. "I was told that many of the sin'dorei newly-arrived in Outland had nothing to do and nowhere to eat and sleep. I did not think you would object if I offered them temporary lodging and amusement here at the Temple. After all, we are still allies, are we not?"

"I—we are all grateful for your generosity," Kael said carefully, aware of how intently he was being watched. "But, I must say that I am puzzled. Is one translator not sufficient? Surely the shivarra do not have so much to communicate?"

"Your people have a natural aptitude for the more challenging and esoteric varieties of magic," Illidan said. "They have the potential to be far more formidable than either human or orc warlocks."

"Warlocks?" Kael asked, despite himself feeling the beginning of a slow burn of anger. "Is this the new source of magical energy you promised us? Turning my magisters into demon-summoners?"

"They were eager and willing," Illidan said coldly. "I saw no reason to refuse them." And then his mood shifted once again. "Come, come, there is no need for such ill-will! Leotheras has been found, and Varedis will soon awake; surely that is worth celebrating?"

"Perhaps later, my lord; I have a number of onerous tasks to attend to first." Kael turned to Selin. "Take me to the bodies of the three that did not survive Illidan's training. They need to be taken back to Silvermoon."

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~ II ~

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Tae'thelan, devastated by the deaths of his nephew and his young friends, had left Outland some hours before. Kael wrote a letter of condolence—as always, a struggle when each word felt hollow and inadequate—then watched as elves carrying a bier with the remains of the three dead students entered the portal to Silvermoon.

Kael put his head in his hands. No wonder his father had so often buried his mourning under a burden of work. The devastation of the Scourge invasion had shrouded them all in a grief so thick it could barely be comprehended, but they had survived—only to be assaulted with the numbing losses of Icecrown. And now this. Death, death, and more death. Kael was beginning to think that it was better not to allow the fullness of feeling to return, ever; that way, each new loss would not be able to pierce deep enough to tear open the scars of previous wounds.

"My lord?"

Kael looked up. Pathaleon. "Give me some good news. Something to lift me from this mire."

"The Firewing Point construction is nearly complete."

"So quickly?" Kael said, hoping that feigning an interest he did not feel would blur his despair. "I am impressed."

Pathaleon dipped his head at the praise. "Fortunately, so many have come through the portal these past few weeks that we've been able to work continuously. Of course, most were disappointed that they were being asked to mortar bricks rather than fight enemies… but as always, our people adapt to new circumstances when given sufficient motivation." Pathaleon chuckled. "Oh, and lest I forget, the small focusers you created were very useful. No obstacle is immune to the judicious application of magic."

"Thank you," Kael said, standing. "You have cheered me, and for that I am grateful." Soon Illidan would no longer have any reason to billet sin'dorei to his Temple. "I wonder, what project can I direct your miraculous touch to next?"

"I am confident that Firewing Point will be a great center for research," Pathaleon said, "but I know you also wish to establish a settlement in the northeastern zone. If the crystalline fortress you saw there is habitable, it could provide a refuge for hundreds or even thousands of our people."

"Yes," Kael said. "That is my hope."

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Kael decided to take his key advisors to survey the fortress and its surroundings: Telonicus, Pathaleon, Astalor, Freywinn, Sarannis, and Malande.

They had mounted their dragonhawks and were waiting for Malande when Thaladred approached. With him was an old elf dressed in drab clothing.

"Lady Malande sends her regrets," Thaladred said.

Kael glanced at Astalor, who raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "She prefers Illidan's company to ours, it seems," he said.

"She is overseeing Varedis' care," Kael said. This was a lie, of course, but there were elves outside his circle of advisors present; he wasn't going to get into a discussion of why Malande would allow Illidan's demands to take precedence over her prince's. "So there will be only six of us."

"Seven," the old elf said firmly.

"He insisted, my lord," Thaladred murmured.

It was only then that Kael recognized Voren'thal. The elder, who usually wore an elaborate gold headband and pleated white and blue robes in the archaic style that had been fashionable two millennia before, was now dressed in a simple brown linen tunic and trousers. With no jewelry and his grey hair in a plait, he looked very much like one of Pathaleon's shabby stonemasons.

"I intend to accompany you on this excursion," Voren'thal said. "At my age, one should never pass up the opportunity to see something entirely new."

"Master Voren'thal," Kael said, "while I entirely understand your curiosity, as I'm sure Thaladred has told you, the area we plan to tour has not yet been thoroughly explored. We have no idea what may lurk there."

"I took Thaladred's warnings into account," Voren'thal said crisply, "and dressed for adventure and danger."

"Asking you to postpone your visit isn't an option?"

"It is not."

"Thaladred?"

The warrior nodded, understanding that the old poet's safety was now his concern.

The eight of them began the journey north, Kael leading the others along his previous route. Northwest across the forest, then along the eastern edge of Zangar; over the spiny barrier, across the canyons of ogres and over the low mountain range, and then down into the northern wilds.

As they flew east over the dark violet landscape, the group's excited reactions were enjoyable enough, but as the crystal fortress came into view, their astonishment and awe was truly gratifying.

"How close have you flown? Did you go inside?" Telonicus asked as they landed their dragonhawks on a wide flat area just north of a shallow gulley edged with small boulders.

"No closer than this, and no," Kael told him.

Telonicus immediately pulled out a recording device, and Freywinn began to rub the soil between his fingertips. Astalor stood next to Voren'thal, with a rapt, almost childlike expression, while the old poet, his gaze fixed on the upper crystal spires of the fortress, seemed to be whispering "Yes," over and over.

When Kael turned from watching his people to the fortress, however, he frowned. Something was… not right. He was certain of it: when he had first seen it, the golden bud-like structures had been pulling violet lightning from the sky; now they were still, their petals closed. And were there fewer buds now than there had been previously? "Thaladred," he asked quietly, "Does it look different to you?"

Thaladred studied the structure for a moment. "The machinery has stopped."

"That's what I—"

Behind him, Kael heard Sarannis draw her sword. He turned to see movement on the far side of the gully.

Two glowing figures had stepped from the undergrowth and were approaching. As they got closer, Kael's eyes widened in amazement. Each figure had arms, legs, a torso, and a head, but that was the end of the resemblance to anything Kael had ever seen before. The remainder of their bodies—including their heads, which were as featureless as eggs—appeared to be narrow strips of cloth wrapped loosely around a core of light. Over these wrappings both wore gloves, boots, and a large flared yoke-like collar; the one on the left also wore a loincloth-like drape, while the other had a skirt-like garment and a hood. It was impossible to discern if this distinguished them as male and female… if indeed those words even applied to such strange, ethereal beings.

As the pair reached the far edge of the gully, Sarannis moved forward. "Halt, or be slain!" She lifted her weapon in warning.

The creatures stopped, then raised their hands as if to display that they held no weapons.

"I am Prince Kael'thas of Quel'Thalas," Kael said. "Why do you approach us?"

The figure on the right, whose pale blue wrappings contained yellow light, said haltingly, in strongly accented and oddly-cadenced Thalassian, "Greetings… Prince-Kael'thas-of-Quel'Thalas. This entity is designated Wind Trader Kajastus of the Varkaus-Takaisinotto Coalition. The disparate entity is designated Loistavat Siteet of the Varkaus-Takaisinotto Coalition."

"You speak our language. Have you encountered sin'dorei before?" Kael asked.

The second creature, whose coppery wrappings contained pale violet energy, touched the edge of—his? its?—black metal collar. "Sin'dorei. Verified."

"I am Kajastus," the blue-and-yellow creature said, much more smoothly. "My associate is Siteet."

"Your accent has improved," Pathaleon noted.

"K'areshi translation services"—Siteet?—said. "Useful for… profitable negotiation."

"Does this structure belong to you?" Kael asked, indicating the crystal fortress.

"No, Prince Kael'thas. You are sought because there is someone who wishes to communicate with you."

"Who is it?"

"The contract does not permit me to say. May we approach and deliver the device?"

Thaladred and Sarannis stepped in front of Kael, ready to defend.

"So mistrustful," Siteet said. His voice had taken on a lazy, amused purr.

"You may approach," Kael said.

In a startling upsurge of light, Kajastus teleported across the gully to a spot barely an arm's-length away.

To their credit, Sarannis and Thaladred tensed, but did not attack.

"Your people are remarkably well trained," Siteet remarked from the far side of the gully.

Kajastus held up a palm-sized metal disk. He tapped its surface in what seemed a purposeful way, then held it out. "Position the device in such a way that you can see your reflection. Once you have been validated, the device will initiate contact."

Kael eyed the disk with skepticism, but nevertheless held it as directed.

As Kajastus teleported back to Siteet, a ripple of light flashed over the disk, and to Kael's astonishment a shimmering image of his old mentor Telestra appeared.

"Kael'thas!" she said. "I knew the K'areshi would find you!"

"Magna!" Kael was astounded, and beyond delighted. "I have so much to tell you, and so many questions to ask!"

"Unfortunately," Telestra said, looking down as if she were reading something out of sight, "this is a semi-public temporary channel with a limited duration, so we'll need to be brief." She looked back up. "Oh, don't think I have forgotten you, Firesoul," she said softly. "I've kept myself well-informed. The Council, the Kul Tiras princess, the Lordaeron prince, your brother, your father…" Her voice broke a little. "I look forward to having a long, long conversation with you about all of it. Our people, the Sunwell. Losses, injustices, new friends."

New friends… "I received your letter," Kael said.

"I wasn't sure that it would find you."

"It was an entertaining read." Though it defied belief that Telestra was still being hounded by the Kirin Tor, Kael knew he should be careful not to say anything that would give away her location or alert them to her study of the Blue Dragonflight. "The scarf you described sounds as though it suits you quite well."

"It does," she said. Despite the blurry image, Kael could see the twinkle of complicity in her eye.

"Make certain to wear it the next time I see you." Kael saw Freywinn and Pathaleon exchange puzzled glances. Of course; to them, he was chattering about inconsequential trifles.

"And you've summoned the ancient divine? Not even your father was able to manage that."

Kael, abashed as well as elated, turned the disk so that Telestra could see Al'ar. The phoenix was perched on an outcropping some distance down the gully, intently watching the K'areshi.

"He would have been so proud of you," Telestra said with a smile as Kael turned the disk back, "and, I think, secretly envious." She sighed. "Our session is about to expire. I'll contact you again soon. Good luck!" Her image faded.

"I'm finished," Kael called out to the K'areshi, holding up the disk.

"The device is included in the transaction," Kajastus said, and turned to go.

"Wait," Kael said to them. "Are you familiar with this area? Can you tell us anything about this structure? How long has it been here? Who built it?"

Loudly enough to he heard by the elves, Siteet said to Kajastus, "Interesting. They observe the fortress vessel. We have knowledge of the fortress vessel's operation. An opportunity for mutual benefit presents itself."

"My conclusion as well."

"Sin'dorei of Quel'Thalas," Siteet said, "I propose that, in exchange for teaching you all we know of the fortress, you give us four breeding pairs of the flying creatures that conveyed you here."

"Eight trained dragonhawks?" Sarannis said. "I wouldn't part with a solitary egg!"

The two K'areshi had no reaction to this at first, but merely stood silently, swaying slightly, their wrappings fluttering. "Ah," Siteet said at last. "Oviparous reproduction. Troublesome. Two breeding pairs and twenty eggs. Final offer."

Sarannis glanced at Kael. He understood her hesitation; she took almost as much pride in her dragonhawks as she did in being Kael's military advisor. "It's your decision, commander," he said.

She nodded once. "You can take one hawk now, as a good faith gesture," she told Siteet. "After you teach us about the fortress, we'll arrange for you to get the other three and," she took a deep breath, " _four_ eggs now, and eight from the next clutch. That's more than we can spare, but we'll make do. Is that acceptable?"

"It is acceptable," Siteet said after a moment, "although we prefer to examine all your livestock and make our own selection."

"If you insist," Sarannis said, bristling a little.

"We do," Siteet said. "Now that we are agreed, Kajastus will instruct you. As you will discover if you have further dealings with the K'areshi, wind traders love to talk." They began to pick their way down the incline.

"You didn't teleport across?" Pathaleon asked as the K'areshi clambered up over the boulders at the gully's edge.

"An unnecessary expenditure of energy," Siteet replied.

Kajastus touched the outer edge of the disk purposefully in three places. The disk floated in the air, projecting a three-dimensional image of the fortress. "I shall explain the salient points of the fortress vessel."

"Fortress vessel," Sarannis said. "So it's a warship?"

"To some extent. Its primary function is…" Kajastus paused, as if searching for the correct word. "Habitation and transport. The large central unit is the location of the navigational console and master controls for all smaller units."

"Interesting," Telonicus said, glancing from the projection to the reality. "I hadn't noticed until now how much the smaller structures resemble sailing ships."

The massive crystals did indeed rise like bulky masts from their oval, deck-like platforms; the underside of each platform was even curved like a hull, with dangling crystal that could have been rudders.

"What do these do?" Telonicus pointed to one of the bud-like structures that connected three of the small ships to the deck of the central ship like boats docked at a pier.

"Energy collection."

As Kajastus rotated and tilted the image, Kael saw a fourth ship on the far side of the fortress. Not visible from where Kael's team stood on land, it had inserted its prow into a niche in the fortress perimeter. Short transparent tubes ran from ports on its mast up to two hovering collectors, which seemed to be sending energy down into the ship.

Telonicus asked, "Why is that ship positioned so differently than the other three? Are the pipes a permanent part of the structure? Do they retract? And the energy collected—is it stored in the crystals, or in some other part of each ship?"

"Can each of the various components fly separately, or do they travel as a unit?" Pathaleon asked.

"Such questions are not relevant to your infiltration," Siteet said, taking the disk from Kajastus and pointing to an archway leading to the central spire. "Enter here."

"March in the front door? That's bold," Sarannis said.

"Such will provide the shortest route to the bridge and the master control consoles."

"There must be defense systems. What should we be prepared for? Locked gates? Ranged attacks? Poisons?"

"Operational vessels have been observed from a distance," Kajastus said after a pause.

Kael looked around at the others, but they looked as perplexed as he felt.

"Ah," Astalor said. "You've never been inside an operational vessel, have you?"

"Damaged units have been encountered on various worlds."

"Another way of saying you've never been inside."

"Well then," Telonicus said jauntily, "We'll be the first."

.

Freywinn suggested a portal to the Sanctum so that the K'areshi could pick out their dragonhawks, and offered to escort them. "I won't be of much use inside the fortress," he quipped, "unless you'll be fighting plants." As Astalor opened a portal, Sarannis expressed her opinion, in colorfully vulgar Common, that pointing to a door was hardly worth four dragonhawks and twelve eggs, but she nevertheless gave Freywinn detailed instructions about how to properly pack the eggs for transport and which stable housed the 'hawks she was willing to turn over to the K'areshi.

Once Freywinn and the K'areshi were gone, Kael and the others mounted their dragonhawks and flew the short distance across the void to the deck of the central ship.

The door of the main entrance was protected by a shimmering energy shield. Telonicus suggested nullifying it rather than blasting it with a fireball. "No need to announce our presence," he said. "They'll know soon enough that we're here." He produced an engineering gadget, and worked only a few seconds before the shield disappeared.

"That was easier than I thought it would be."

The door opened onto a narrow hallway, lit by glowing red-violet crystals. The stone walls and floor were tiled and incised with graceful geometric patterns. Delicate filigree framed the oval archway ahead of them.

The archway led to a larger corridor whose walls were made of chiseled dark violet crystal that rose so high that, as in the Serpent Shrine, the ceiling was lost in shadow. It seemed to Kael that both spaces were designed to make the individual feel small in relation to the cosmos, but where Vashj's temple was ominous and almost oppressive, this space felt curiously uplifting, as though he was looking up at the mysteries of the night sky.

"Not much of a defense system," Astalor said.

"Not yet," Sarannis said grimly, "but there'll be one. I'm sure of it."

They moved to the next room. Here, pale lilac crystals jutted like weeds from the junction of the walls and floor. Near the ceiling, a large, shield-like object, with a dark red design on a rose-colored background, hung suspended by glowing filaments. Beads of light raced back and forth along the filaments, from one end to the other, like children playing chase.

"That's the same symbol that was outside, near the top of the spire, " Pathaleon said. "I wonder what it is."

"A shovel," Astalor said.

Pathaleon tsked at him. "More a flower than a shovel."

"Perhaps a celestial being offering benediction," Voren'thal said, so seriously that not even Astalor laughed.

They passed through two more rooms with crystals and filaments, then a narrow stone corridor, the twin of the one they had come through when they entered... and then they came into a vast circular space that took Kael's breath away.

It was… a cathedral, filled with light. After the dark, fel-stained ugliness of Illidan's temple, it nearly made Kael weep. Sconces holding enormous red and golden crystals alternated with stained glass panels of garnet and rose. At the apex, a massive crystal cluster the color of pale honey hung down like a chandelier.

Telonicus, who had walked toward the center of the room, stopped at the carved stone border of what looked like a reflecting pool. "Look at this," he said.

Coming closer, Kael could see that the border encircled, not water, but a huge disk of transparent crystal set into the floor. Below, beads of light and strands of violet lightning danced and swirled in an amphitheatre of rose crystal.

"How extraordinary the creators of this fortress must be," Voren'thal said, "to not only dream such beauty, but bring it into being."

.

Reluctantly, they ascended one of the curving ramps that led to the upper level of the cathedral, and from there went through the nearest doorway.

Another stone corridor. When they emerged it was clear that they had entered a distinctly different zone: the arches were three times as tall, and the colors of the crystals had changed to shades of red instead of the bluish-purples near the entrance. The change was reflected in the walls as well, which were a combination of rough-hewn garnet and polished stone ornamented with crimson bands.

They moved through the first room and found themselves at a junction. To their left, the floor curved up between tall hedges of pulsing red and yellow crystals, while straight ahead, the corridor took a turn and went out of sight.

"I wonder what this is for?" Telonicus said, stooping to touch a complex circular geometric inscribed within a large square on the floor. The lines of the design coruscated faintly with the same pink beads of light that they had seen racing along the filaments holding up the shields in previous rooms.

"I don't understand it, " Sarannis said. "The fortress power systems are active."

"And?"

"Why have none of the defensive systems activated?"

"You're disappointed?" Astalor asked.

"I'm uneasy," Sarannis said. "No opposition suggests we're being lulled into relaxing our guard."

"And lured into a trap?"

Kael cast a protective shield over the group. "Let's continue."

They moved forward until they reached another cavernous room. Amethyst walls and sconces, with alcoves framing stained-glass depictions of the shovel-flower-celestial being symbol in shades of blue. A huge circle of glass crowned the dome of the room.

"The only exit is the way we entered," Sarannis said. Her eyes were in constant motion; Kael assumed that she was scanning for any movement that might signal danger.

"How strange," Astalor said, "that it is so empty."

"The makers do seem to have abandoned it," Kael said.

"It's not abandonment," Astalor said. "When a city is evacuated, things get left behind. Bulky furniture, broken weapons, dead plants, food leavings… " He looked around. "Corpses. There's none of that here. No garbage, no forgotten items… there not even any dust. It's disturbing."

"I prefer to see it as an advantage," Pathaleon said. "No garbage means nothing to clean up before we begin moving in." He looked as if he was keeping a running total of the number of elves the various rooms could house, and the resources that would be required to sustain them. "Let's go see the other wings. Perhaps we can find some trash or dirty rags to ease Astalor's mind."

They went back to the junction, then hurried up the bridge-like ramp through the corridor, the looming red crystals on either side seeming to urge them on. Another archway, another narrow stone hallway, and then out into a large room.

Smaller than the cathedral or the blue-domed room, it was still an astounding sight. The walls were stone and red crystal; the floor was stone, with a larger version of the pattern they had seen in the hall flickering on a field of polished violet crystal. Overhead, a pale orange crystal cluster radiated a soothing light.

All this was quickly overshadowed by the spectacle at the far end of the room.

Above a low wide dais, framed between two large amethyst pylons adorned with filigree bands, floated an ornately geometric pale yellow crystal. Strangely reminiscent of the design on the shields and stained-glass windows, this glowing crystal, although fragmented into many pieces, had a beautiful symmetry. In constant motion, its shards rose and fell and spun around each other as if dancing.

As they walked toward it Kael began to hear a barely-audible sound, not quite wind, not quite music. Eerie, and yet oddly soothing.

Voren'thal and Astalor reached the dais first, and stepped up into it as if mesmerized. Without warning a pulse of light erupted from the crystal, rippling across the room and hitting Kael like a shockwave, knocking him and all those who had not yet reached the dais to the floor.

Kael scrambled to his feet, beginning to form a fireball, but Voren'thal shouted, "No! Do not attack it!" as Astalor, who had held up his hands toward the crystal as if planning to siphon it, collapsed with a terrified cry.

They rushed toward him. Astaslor's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and he was chanting under his breath, something frantic and unintelligible. As they dragged him off the dais he began to twist and flail at them, his hands curved into claws. They set him down on the floor they struggled to restrain him without hurting him.

Kael'thas, trusting a sudden impulse, grabbed his shoulder and shouted, "Stop! You must warn Rommath!"

Astalor went still, and then slowly opened his eyes. For a moment they were impossibly blue, as luminous as sapphires dusted with goldenmist—and then they dulled to angry fel green as he rolled onto his side and huddled into a ball.

Kael felt a momentary flash of anger that Malande had not been not present to help calm Astalor. He looked over at Voren'thal, who, unharmed, was still staring up at the crystal. "What is it?" Kael asked.

"I do not know," Voren'thal said wonderingly. "I have never encountered anything so… no, mere words are inadequate."

"Why did it harm Astalor but not you?"

"Astalor tried to take its light, to drain it using Illidan's demon technique." Voren'thal turned to look at Kael. "And you will as well, won't you? To satisfy your curiosity. Even now, your loudest thoughts are questions— _what is this thing? what did Astalor experience? why did it affect him so deeply? would my reaction be the same?"_

It was unsettling to hear his half-formed thoughts articulated so well.

"Do not be ashamed of your pursuit of knowledge," Voren'thal continued. "It is a natural inclination, and at its core it is an admirable impulse. It only feels selfish when you set it in opposition to your genuine desire to help our people. Your father always hoped that you would learn to harness your personal desires to the greater good; I always assured him that someday you would, although it might not be in the way he imagined."

"Please stand clear, Master Voren'thal," Kael said. He had heard enough. More than enough; to be talked to thus verged on impertinence.

Looking weary and suddenly frail, Voren'thal stepped back.

Kael shielded himself and extended his hand toward the crystal, quickly finding and drawing out a wisp of power.

It was exhilarating. Never before had he experienced such concentrated magical energy! Even when drawing directly from the Sunwell in performance of the most sacred of the quel'dorei centenary rituals, even then Kael had never felt such awe and delight, such a vast sense of connection and content, silent songs of beauty and warmth—

Voren'thal was right. There were no words for it.

Encouraged that the crystal had not rebuffed him as it had Astalor, Kael tentatively increased the intensity of the siphon.

In retailiation a second surge of energy flashed outward from the crystal, throwing Kael from the dais and momentarily blinding him. He slammed into the floor, hearing strangely muffled shouts.

As his vision cleared and the others helped him to his feet he saw that the crystal had contracted into a solid mass and sunk to the floor.

"I think," he said when he was able to find his voice, "that we have found an alternative source of energy for those opposed to feeding off demons."

.

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_~ Next chapter: Awry ~_

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_ first post 15 April 2016; rev 22 Oct 2017 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I am grateful to my beta **Bryn** for being fearless enough to wade into the dragon's lair; to **Mipe** , for coming up with absolutely delightful names for the two ethereals as well as letting me brainstorm about certain topics until actual ideas appeared; and to **stinger** , for having the forbearance to listen critically when large chunks of clunk were read aloud. You da best!
> 
> Special thanks to **little-ojousama** of tumblr, who did some research that won't pay off until the next chapter.


	17. Grand Magister's Asylum (Kael'thas), Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even as the fortress begins to reveal its astonishing secrets, Kael receives unsettling information from Rommath, is drawn into an unwanted battle, and suffers an unexpected loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter primarily based on various _Burning Crusade_ quests and flavor text, with some inferences drawn from _Wrath of the Lich King_ quests (and just a reminder that, according to quest text, the area known during Burning Crusade as Netherstorm was once fields and forests—somewhat like northern Gorgrond.)
> 
> All named characters are canon NPCs (one uses a slight spelling variant).
> 
> Once again, the wonderful **Bryn** was my beta-reader, editor, and—along with **Mipe** —the touchstone of lore. Minor deviations from canon for story purposes were my doing.

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~ : |17| : ~

_"Don't look so smug!"_

.

So here you are at last. Let me guess… you and your scrappy band 'restored order' to Outland, and now aspire to do the same for Quel'Thalas—or even all of Azeroth?

Arrogant, blundering fools. What do you know of order? of Outland? or of Azeroth, for that matter? Do you truly believe that killing me—well, insofar as you will be able to kill someone that has died a thousand times over—will have any effect on what has been set in motion?

Of course you do. You want to think that you are at the center of history, making it happen.

You aren't. History is not made by a single person: it is a chaotic torrent of actions and consequences, whose final shape can only be viewed with hindsight, from a distance. Those who claim to have recognized the final outcome of events from the beginning are lying. What seemed at first to be an obstacle might have led to an unforeseen boon; what sounded like the victorious roaring of the waterfall might have been masking the sound of the world's foundations beginning to crack.

And we… our only choice, our only perspective on history as it is being made, is whether we will contribute as a drop of water, or remain inconsequential detritus, helplessly swept along until we sink.

.

.

Eldin had urged him years ago to select his advisors and friends with care.

As he watched the others recover from the encounter with the crystal, Kael felt he could commend himself that he had indeed chosen well. Sarannis and Thaladred were scanning for danger; Telonicus was studying the unusual crystals and metal forms around the dais; and Pathaleon was likely already compiling schedules and mental lists of resources.

As for Astalor… as always, he had recklessly plunged headlong into danger and was now shrugging off everyone's concern for his well-being, ignoring the outstretched hands of those offering to help him as if he could erase the memory of his 'moment of weakness' by pretending that it hadn't happened… and yet, when Pathaleon stooped to touch the crystal, Astalor shouted, "Don't!" then harrumphed and folded his arms when he saw that the dormant crystal did not respond. "This was the fortress defense system you were hoping to see?" he asked Sarannis. "Barely adequate."

"It may be a ruse," Thaladred said. "To trick us into thinking it harmless."

"I don't sense anything within it," Pathaleon said, cautiously lifting one edge of the fused crystal mass. "Perhaps Kael'thas drained it?"

"I cannot imagine that I did," Kael said. "Not with the amount of power it contained." Voren'thal had been right: Kael did want to know what Astalor's experience of the crystal had been, but at the moment Astalor was staring at the far wall of the room, avoiding eye contact and making it clear that he would not be contributing to the discussion. Kael would need to press him later, when the others were not present.

"It must be a conduit for something more powerful," Thaladred said. He seemed unnerved by the object.

Telonicus nodded. "If it is, I'd say it overloaded and fused."

"So the danger is over?" Pathaleon asked.

"No." Thaladred shook his head. "There are likely to be others."

"Probably in the final chamber," Telonicus added. "I predict one more large chamber the size of the blue domed room." He turned to point to the door in the shadowed right-hand corner of the far end of the room, opposite of where they'd entered. "Through there, down the ramp, past the crystals, turn right at the floor panel with the rippling lights."

"Oh, you can't be certain of that!" Pathaleon said. "Or did you slip off and explore somehow when we weren't looking?"

Telonicus, who had moved to examine the wide curved railing in front of the crystal pylons at the back of the dais, shrugged. "No, I simply used observation and logic. Whoever built this fortress loved symmetry. If this room is the center, the fact that there is a large room over there," he gestured off to his right, in the approximate direction of the blue-domed room, "suggests that there is a corresponding chamber over there." He pointed toward the left-hand wall.

"Care to make a wager?" Pathaleon asked.

"Accepting wouldn't be fair to you," Telonicus said, sitting on the floor and leaning back to study the underside of the railing. "I'd win."

Pathaleon, exasperated, headed toward the door in the back of the room. Sarannis, with an amused chuckle, hurried after him.

"I will accompany you as well," Voren'thal said.

Kael was about to suggest that perhaps it would be best for Voren'thal to remain with the others, but the old elf, apparently anticipating Kael's objection, said crisply, "Considering what a stimulating excursion it has been thus far, it would be foolish of me not to see this exploration through to the end. That is, if my nursemaid has no objection?"

Thaladred was already following the elder.

Astalor was still pointedly staring off into nothing. "What are those things?" Kael asked Telonicus, who had eased through the railing in order to study the crystal pylons behind it more closely.

"Given their location and the unique design of the housings, I think this platform is part of the master controls the K'areshi referred to," Telonicus replied. "Perhaps even the navigational console." He ran his fingers lightly along the railing: the touch left a glowing trail, and the ornate band around one of the crystal pylons rotated fractionally. "I can't wait to figure out what it all does."

"And how will you do that?" Astalor asked sullenly.

"Experiment," Telonicus said. He had stooped to study the striated garnet base of the pylon. "Press buttons and record what happens." He didn't sound as if he were joking.

"And yet I am considered the reckless one?" Astalor asked.

"You are reckless," Telonicus said absently. He was moving a small engineering tool back and forth over the metal plate. "You do little to no preparation before throwing yourself into dangerous environments and unknown situations."

"I see you here as well," Astalor said, "in this dangerous and unknown situation. You're no different than I am."

"Of course I am," Telonicus said, frowning at the readout on his scanner.

"You press a button and see what happens!"

"If that's the most efficient option. Less dramatic than slicing open my veins, but usually more effective."

Kael had heard the two argue about the relative advantages and dangers of blood magic and engineering enough times to know that even if Astalor lost his temper, he would not attack Telonicus, so he walked to one of the pylons set at either end of the dais.

These pylons were different from any of the others they had seen in the fortress thus far. The large, tall amethyst crystal was adorned with two filagree bands instead of one, and the base was an elaborate construction of darker amethyst and faceted gray-green tourmaline which sparkled with small points of light.

Curious, Kael stepped closer. The flickers seemed to be deep inside the base rather than a reflection of the light in the room; as he leaned in to get a closer look, a faint tingling rippled over his skin. He tentatively pressed his hand flat against the surface.

The resulting trickle of arcane energy was like not realizing how thirsty one was until taking the first mouthful of a cool beverage. Kael gratefully drew in every iota.

"What is it?" Astalor asked.

"This crystal has a magic signature very similar to the artifacts I created in Dalaran," Kael said, guilty that he had not thought to share.

"So the builders of this place also discovered how to store energy in a crystal matrix, the way you do in the verdant spheres," Astalor said as he came over to Kael. He briefly siphoned from the tourmaline. "There's so little arcane energy here as to be almost useless… still, I suppose we could take it back to Silvermoon after Telonicus figures out how it works, and how to recharge it."

"Your sudden faith in me is heartwarming," Telonicus said.

"I wonder," Kael quietly asked Astalor, "if there is any way to use that?" He indicated the mass of inert yellow crystal. "You felt the vast amount of power it contains; is there a way to enable our people, particularly those with no magical background, to safely draw upon it? Give them a trickle instead of a deluge?"

Astalor folded his arms and frowned, but Kael could see that the challenge appealed to him. "There might be."

...

Telonicus, Kael reflected a few days later, was a marvel. While working with Pathaleon's team at Firewing Point to plan the migration of their people to Outland, Kael had received a package containing the K'areshi communication device that Kajastus had left with them, and a message saying that not only had the master engineer figured out the workings of the device, but he had also made a rudimentary prototype copy that was capable of transmission. There were instructions for initiating a contact.

"Very impressive!" Kael said as soon as Telonicus' image appeared.

"This K'areshi device is not as elegant as a scrying bowl, to be sure, but it has the advantage of allowing two-way conversation," Telonicus replied.

"Indeed. You appear to be making good on your claim that one day your devices will be able to perform all the functions provided by magic."

Telonicus smiled and gave a small bow. "I see The Calculator is with you—that will save time."

"Calculator?" Kael asked.

"He means me," Pathaleon said with a tight smile.

"Please join me at the fortress," Telonicus said, "as I am ready to give my initial report to the council."

"I'll send for Astalor," Kael said. "He's been in Silvermoon, studying the crystal."

"It's not as essential that he be present," Telonicus replied. "But Freywinn needs to be here. Oh, and bring Thaladred. One of the new engineers wants to talk to him. She's an old friend of his family, apparently. When I mentioned him she nearly began crying, because she thought he'd died during the invasion."

"Of course. I'm sure he'll appreciate having a brief respite from guarding Voren'thal."

As soon as the transmission ended Sarannis said, "Apologies, my lord. It slipped my mind."

"What did?"

Pathaleon chuckled. "Voren'thal. He's currently being guarded by the bulk of our Outland forces."

"He's helping Daelis Dawnstrike with battle drills," Sarannis explained.

"At his age? Is that wise?" Kael frowned.

"It seems we overestimated his frailty," she replied. "I've seen him fight; he is fairly skilled with the quarterstaff."

"As well he should be, having trained with the same weapons master as Anasterian," Pathaleon interjected, and then immediately looked as if he regretted mentioning Kael's late father. "At any rate, it seems that Voren'thal wanted to make himself useful and so took it upon himself to chide the lazier recruits."

Sarannis added, "Daelis noticed the troops beginning to compete for the elder's approval, and so he asked for permission to make Voren'thal his unofficial assistant."

"Clever," Kael said.

"Don't let Daelis hear you say that," Pathaleon said irritably. "As it is, the Farstriders are constantly bragging about how they never waste anything, and how efficient they are at putting everything to its best use, and so on and so on. If Daelis hears such praise from you, he'll be utterly insufferable."

Kael suppressed a smile. Pathaleon was entirely unaware of his own Farstrider-like qualities, it seemed.

As they emerged from the portal and entered the fortress, Kael wondered how Telonicus had unravelled the structure's secrets so quickly—a question that was answered as soon as he saw the dozens of tents and sleeping mats set up against the walls of the cathedral. Swathes of fabric had been draped over the crystals to dim the light.

Sarannis touched Kael's shoulder and pointed to the upper level, where Telonicus was motioning to them. They hurried up the ramp.

"It's more efficient to have them live here than waste time travelling here from Terokkar or the Temple or Silvermoon every day," Telonicus said as they followed him into the hallway. "I blame my assistants. They keep bringing in their own assistants. I can't keep up with the new faces."

"Oh," Pathaleon said, "that must be what solved the overcrowding at Firewing." He looked disappointed. "So what have you and your hordes of engineers learned?"

Telonicus pointed to the large floor panel at the intersection that led up to the central chamber. "The pattern of lights? Not simply decorative. It conveys information about the entire structure, including the four smaller ships and the five collectors."

"What sort of information?"

"Power levels and system activity."

"How can you be so sure?" Thaladred asked as they walked up the ramp and into the central room.

"Because whenever we make a change, the pattern reflects that change." Telonicus went to the dais and stood in front of the sweeping sculpted bar that ran along the back of the platform. "Watch."

As he pressed a blinking light on the bar, the glow from the crystals in the chamber diminished, the rippling lights that raced over the center of the chamber's floor slowed down, and the ambient hum that filled the room became much quieter.

"What did you do?"

"Put the entire complex on standby. Power-saving mode."

"And the other lights on that console?" Pathaleon asked. "What do they control?"

"We're still figuring that out."

Pathaleon smirked. "I'm so delighted that I came all this way to see you can control the lights."

"I still haven't found the button that makes the fortress levitate rather than plunging into the void," Telonicus said. "Stay awhile; I'm sure you'll motivate me to discover it." He then pressed a series of lights that created a three-dimensional projection of the fortress. "We've been scanning and analyzing the readings for the satellite ships. Blue and Violet seem to be habitable. Red might be too, although there's something weird about it. 'Anomalous life readings' is how we're interpreting the data, though it's not as uninhabitable as the fourth ship. From what we can tell, the power core on that one had a meltdown some time ago which caused a cascade malfunction and damaged most of the ship's systems. Interior temperatures are off the scale, and it's probable that sections are flooded with corrosive acid or poisonous gas."

Kael sighed. "That's unfortunate. Is there a danger that it will deteriorate further? An explosion so close the rest of the fortress would be devastating."

"We believe that the danger of that happening has passed," Telonicus said. "Even though the readings are still dangerously high, they have been gradually declining. I have engineers monitoring the ship constantly, but for now it seems stable. We've placed a shield between it and the rest of the fortress, and are focused on learning how to release it from its mooring and move it far enough away that it won't be a danger. I'm also trying to get in touch with a gnome disaster theoretician I know."

Pathaleon, who had been quietly sullen, perked up suddenly. "Wait, did you say that Blue and Violet are habitable?"

"Yes." Telonicus went to one of the large crystal pylons and traced an arabesque over the surface; a flicker of light deep inside followed his fingers. "The couplings on the collectors that look like archways are also doors; the base of each collector is an antechamber for the ship it's connected to."

"Can we enter them?" Kael asked.

"Of course," Telonicus said. "After all, it would have been ridiculous to ask you to come out here simply to see me control the lights."

.

They didn't have to walk far into Blue to realize that it was dedicated to horticulture: the air was rich with the loamy scent of earth. Unlike the central fortress, its dark violet rooms were dimly lit.

Freywinn was giddy. "Look at this!" he said, almost dancing at a display console that showed views of botanical research stations, conservatories, and garden levels as large as any farm. "This is utterly fantastic! I can finally do a proper analysis of the soil outside! And, oh, I can bring in seeds from Quel'Thalas and the southern kingdoms and cross-pollinate them under controlled conditions with the species native to this planet! Who knows what marvelous hybrids we can create?!" His delight was contagious.

"Shall we move on to Violet?" Telonicus asked.

Freywinn paused. "Is Violet also full of plants?"

"No."

"Then I'll see it later," Freywinn said. "I need to summon my assistants! There's work to do!"

Kael laughed. "Stay, then. Create rampant greenery."

They left Freywinn and walked over to the second ship.

"It's a machine shop," Telonicus said confidently as he led them through a series of baffled doorways into a large open space. Violet's brightly-lit pale blue interior did have an entirely different aroma than Blue's humid fecundity, a smell of oil and ozone, but other than that there wasn't much to support Telonicus' claim. A few small mysterious pieces of equipment, a few stacks of metal bars, a bin containing a chalky white substance—and dozens and dozens of neatly-stacked large transparent cubes, most taller than an elf. The cubes were held in position by metal corners, and were filled with luminous, violet-pink mist.

"What are these?" Kael asked.

"We're not certain," Telonicus said. "Scans say they contain pure energy."

"Fascinating," Kael said, running his hand over the surface of a cube; disappointingly, unlike the crystalline pylons, it had absolutely no trace of arcane residue. "I might need to start bringing in assistants of my own to study them."

"If you do, I have the perfect workroom for you on the upper level."

As they approached the elevator, a dark-haired elf standing nearby smiled. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you at last!" She set down the small metal box she was holding—it made a shrill chittering noise—and embraced Thaladred warmly. "It's me! Sirona! We took Cinderdawn as our family name, after the invasion. You don't remember me, do you?" she asked.

"No, I'm sorry, I don't," Thaladred said, "but it is good that… you survived the invasion."

"Thank you," she said, beaming. "Don't feel bad if you don't recognize me—so much has happened since then. I can't wait to catch up!"

"Some other time," he said haltingly. "I am here to protect Kael'thas."

"I think I will be safe for the remainder of the tour," Kael said.

For an instant, just an instant, Thaladred's eyes darkened with something like contemptuous amusement… but then the darkness was gone, and Kael decided it had been a trick of the light.

Thaladred dipped his head and said, "Thank you, my lord."

"Take all the time you need," Kael said. "we'll find you on the way out."

The elevator led to a smaller room stacked with more of the glowing cubes. "This way," Telonicus said, leading them through a doorway and onto a curved glass walkway that arced out over the factory floor.

Below them, Kael glimpsed Thaladred and his friend, who had moved away from the elevator and into a secluded corner behind a stack of crates. They were conversing intently, their heads close.

The sight pleased Kael. Such moments—small, emotionally rich interactions between individuals—were a sign of the recovery of his people.

...

"What a pleasant surprise!" Kael'thas said a few weeks later as he hurried to where Grand Magister Rommath stood looking up at the crystals on the ceiling of the Mechanar.

Rommath smiled faintly. "I wanted to see the fortress in the midst of paradise for myself," he said. "The marvel that Astalor claimed defies description."

"Well?" Kael asked. "What do you think?"

"It does indeed defy description." Rommath cleared his throat. "Is there somewhere we could talk?"

"Of course," Kael said. "Will my workroom suffice, or do you require somewhere more private?"

"The workroom will suffice."

As they walked toward the elevator, Kael was startled to see faint gray streaks in Rommath's hair. He'd thought of Rommath as a smooth-faced youth for so long, it was unsettling to see him looking as if he had aged centuries since they had last met. "How are you progressing with the crystal?" he asked.

"Astalor and I are not yet in agreement about the best method of utilizing the crystal's power," Rommath said with brittle precision. He stepped onto the small circular platform of the elevator, and stood, as silent and formal as a statue.

Kael's heart sank. He had hoped that sending Astalor back to Silvermoon to work on the yellow crystal with Rommath would be a boon for the estranged couple—and yes, he had also hoped it would quell the ever-present guilt he felt ever since inadvertently coming between the two. When Kael had glimpsed the cord of the affinity pendant inside the collar of the grand magister's robe, he had taken it as proof that the relationship with Astalor had been mended, but it did not sound as though that was the case.

"Well, no matter the reason, I am pleased for this opportunity to talk in person," Kael said as the elevator reached the upper floor.

Rommath nodded, and they moved in silence through the antechamber and along the glass walkway, the sound of their footsteps echoing from the Mechanar's walls. At the end of the walkway, they entered a high-ceilinged circular room. The blue walls, incised with the familiar geometric pattern, curved inward as they rose, supporting a dome of rose-colored stained glass which was topped by the familiar pendant crystal cluster.

The technicians and arcane researchers gathered around the assortment of glowing cubes lining the walls looked up as Kael and Rommath entered; a few were bold enough to crowd around them.

"Grand Magister!"

"What an honor!"

Kael decided to allow his assistants to flutter and flatter: meeting the Grand Magister was likely a treat for most of them, and the attention might lift Rommath's spirits.

"This is the energy storage device?" Rommath asked as he picked up a small empty cube from the table. "Fascinating. Is it glass or crystal?"

"No, it's something more perplexing. It took nearly a day to make a pinhole in it so that we could extract the contents," one of the arcane chemists said. "We think that the cubes were fabricated here, but as to the materials or the process used…" She shook her head.

"And the contents?"

"A stable arcane vapor," the lead researcher, a spellbinder named Maryana, answered. "Very potent. I don't know if you're familiar with Kael'thas' monographs on magical energy conversion theory, but according to what we can tell, these cubes are storing arcane energy without the need for a crystalline substratum."

Kael allowed the discussion to continue for a few moments more—Rommath's enjoyment of the conversation was evident—and then asked, "Would you all leave us for a while? The Grand Magister and I have matters of state to discuss." As they collected their materials and hurried out of the room, Kael said to Rommath, "We call it a workroom, but as you'll see it's not much more than a glorified niche."

"True, it doesn't have the antique charm of your workshop in Dalaran," Rommath said as he wearily eased himself into a chair, "but it suits its purpose. It sounds as though your understanding of the cubes is progressing rapidly."

"I wish I could say that was true, but..." Kael ran his hand over the side of one of the larger cubes. "It's so frustrating. I have the best—well, all but two of the best—arcanists in Quel'Thalas studying them, and yet so far all we know for certain is that they would be our people's greatest hope, if only we could decipher the process by which they were made! A completely non-fel source of power, manufactured rather than drawn from living beings. They are perfection, but a perfection that is still out of reach. As tempting as it is to simply use the existing cubes, dole out their power slowly to those most in need of it, there would be a day when the supply is exhausted."

"And then we will once again face the pangs of loss, and be scrambling for a substitute."

"Yes."

They sat for a moment considering this dismaying scenario.

"Still," Kael said, "I have faith that we will yet discover their secret."

"I have faith in you as well."

There was an awkward beat. 

"May I offer you something?" Kael asked. "Belloc sent me a case of thistle brandy. It's no Saltheril, but it provides a pleasant afterglow."

"No, I need a clear mind." Rommath rubbed his eyes, then abruptly put up a sonic shield around the room. "My apologies for being so dramatic, but there will be aspects of the remainder of our discussion that I cannot risk being overheard."

Kael'thas was unsettled by this statement. "You have my attention."

"Two things," Rommath said. He pulled a rolled parchment from the pocket of his robe. "First, I am here at the behest of the Regent Lord to solicit your thoughts regarding Sylvanas' urgings that we pledge loyalty to the Horde. Lor'themar and I believe that it may be in our best interests to do so, but as you are still the leader of our people, we will not go forward if you object."

"Ally with orcs and trolls?" Kael asked as he looked over the map Rommath had handed him, annotated with the current and proposed boundaries of the sin'dorei and human (now Lordaeron Forsaken) territories. "To trust them, after all they've done to us?"

"The Darkspear and the majority of the orcs are now in Kalimdor, across the sea," Rommath said. "And if we are forced to dine with them… at least their enmity will be honest. They won't be spewing noble-sounding lies about friendship and cooperation as they're stabbing us."

"True." Kael handed the map back to Rommath. "I wish we possessed our former strength and could choose not to affiliate with either faction."

"With Sylvanas and the Forsaken as formal allies," Rommath said as he tucked the map back inside his robe, "the trolls might be less likely to move against us." He picked up the mana-cube and said thoughtfully, "In time, we will be valued as part of the Horde far more than we were as part of the Alliance."

"That will be a welcome change." Kael nodded. "What is the second thing you wished to discuss?"

"When next you speak to Magna Telestra," Rommath said, turning the cube in his hands over and over, "make sure to ask her to tell you everything she can about why dragons have suddenly taken an interest in the Sunwell." He said this conversationally, as if it was in no way an extraordinary request.

Of all the topics Rommath might have wanted to speak to him about, dragons had not even entered Kael's mind as a possibility. "Go on."

"The trespassers we discovered lurking on Quel'Danas? The humans whose identities Lor'themar and Halduron were keeping a secret from… me? I have uncovered the truth. The girl is a magical construct who carries uncorrupted Sunwell energy. Her guardian was a blue dragon."

Kael was astounded. "What? That's not possible!"

"Apparently it is," Rommath said, setting the cube down with a soft click. "I don't yet have all the facts, but the pieces of the story I do have are verified, and support each other."

"But we sensed no such power in that girl!" Kael said. "She cannot be the blessed—it's impossible!"

Rommath shook his head. "She is no simple farm girl. Witnesses saw her wield a power that no untrained human could possibly have. Certainly there are plausible alternative theories—such as that the girl is herself also a dragon—but to me the blue dragon connection gives credence to the claim that she is, in fact, an avatar of the Sunwell."

Kael nodded. "Malygos and his Blue Dragonflight are said to be the guardians of magic. If they were drawn to Quel'Danas to investigate the disturbance in the ley-lines, they might have been driven to preserve the energy that survived the Extinguishment."

"That is how I see it as well," Rommath said. "Now, as to why they chose to disguise that energy as a human? For that, I can see no justification, but then I am not a dragon."

"Telestra will know why the dragons preserved the remnants, and whether or not they plan on using them to restore the Sunwell."

Rommath shrugged. "Whether or not the Magna knows the full scope of what the dragons intend—and I doubt she does, dragons generally haven't shared their plans with mortals—I thought she might at least be able to enlighten us about their possible motivations."

"And advise us on how we might best approach the Blue Dragonflight and ask them to discuss the matter with us? Or even offer to act as a go-between?" Kael said. "Query the dragons on our behalf?"

"It's possible." Rommath stood, then picked up the mana cube once more. "Give her my regards, will you?" he said, and then teleported away.

.

Kael was reading a letter from Lor'themar when the K'areshi device made a chiming sound. Assuming that the call would be from Telonicus, he was pleasantly surprised to see Telestra instead.

"You look so serious, Firesoul," she said. "Is something wrong?"

"Not particularly," he told her. "I've been reviewing the terms under which the sin'dorei might be joining the Horde."

"The Horde?"

"A loose coalition of races opposed to the Alliance," he said.

"Opposed to the Alliance? Then I approve of this Horde," she said. "The humans have proven again and again that they are no friend to Quel'Thalas or her people. Why do you have reservations?"

"The Alliance is more than humans," Kael said. "It's dwarves, kaldorei and gnomes as well. The recent incident with the dwarven ambassador notwithstanding, I have generally found dwarves to be an honorable people, and I am reluctant to set myself in opposition to them. They did more for us after the invasion than many of our other allies."

"Perhaps, but surely you won't shed tears over our distant cousins the kaldorei," she countered, "who banished our Highborne ancestors and sent them out to drown in the Great Sea, and have shunned the quel'dorei ever since."

"Yes, but my encounter with the kaldorei High Priestess and the Archdruid—"

"They treated you as an equal only as long as they needed your help," Telestra said. "Or perhaps I'm wrong? Have they stayed in contact, suggested that both sides set aside the past?"

Kael made a conciliatory gesture; he didn't want to fight.

"As for gnomes," Telestra said, "you can't have had that much interaction with them if you don't find them disproportionately odious."

"I've only met one," Kael said.

"And?"

"She was intelligent, highly competent, and very pleasant-tempered."

Telestra laughed. "Now you're just baiting me! But seriously, whatever the other races of the Alliance may have done, helping or hindering you personally, it's clearly the humans who lead the Alliance—the humans who are our enemies. Have you forgotten Garithos? Or Prince Arthas? Or the Kirin Tor? Need I remind you that the Alliance, with the full support of the Kirin Tor, continues to reject and revile the thousands of humans infected with Kel'thuzad's plague?"

"No one has forgotten, Magna," he said quietly. "Not for an instant."

She shook her head. "Humans are the true plague. The reckless way they used the magic we taught them is the reason that our world is now in constant danger. And then they hounded me to Northrend, trying to stop my work, but now that I have the might of the Blue Dragonflight on my side—well, they will feel the consequences of their actions at last."

"I don't understand."

She looked at him for a moment as if she didn't recognize him, then said, "Were you aware that the Kirin Tor have an outpost in the wilderness southwest of your fortress?"

"They don't," Kael said. "I've flown over that area a dozen times. There's nothing there."

"It was hidden by an invisibility spell as soon as your people began traveling to the fortress," Telestra said. "Fortunately the K'areshi had mapped its location when they originally surveyed the region."

"I don't see what it has to do with me."

"Why would the Kirin Tor hide their presence if all they planned to do was continue polishing their wands and practicing their transmutation spells?" she asked. "Isn't it more likely that they're now clandestinely observing your progress in making the fortress habitable and unlocking its secrets? Waiting for the right moment to sweep in and take it from you?"

Kael shook his head. "That's far-fetched. If there is a Kirin Tor outpost in that area, it's associated with the Alliance Expedition who entered Outland nearly two decades ago. They have no interest in me."

"You are so naive. Assuming that they did have a valid reason to remain in such a remote and isolated corner of that world-perhaps they like the view—why did they suddenly hide when you came near? I will tell you why. They must know that most of our warriors fell defending Quel'Thalas, and thus that you have no army to speak of. Your engineers, architects, and handful of mages will be no match for the hundreds or thousands of trained soldiers the Kirin Tor will portal in from Azeroth."

"It's true that my forces are meager, but if I were to be attacked, Illidan would—" Kael started to say, and then wondered if it was true. "What is it you want me to do, Magna?"

Telestra leaned forward and said fiercely, "Don't allow them the advantage of first strike."

It took him a moment to understate what she was suggesting. "Attack them? Magna, I despise humans and the Kirin Tor, but I can't exterminate an entire outpost that has posed no threat! If they attack us, of course I will fight back, but—"

"That's fine. Wait until they kill another 90% of our people; perhaps then you'll be willing to lead the few hundred of us that will be left into battle?"

Her sudden contempt cut him so deeply he was speechless.

Telestra realized she'd gone too far, for she quickly said, "If you knew them as I do, Firesoul, their treachery, their greed… I understand why you are reluctant; you can't bring yourself to kill without just cause. What if I provided you with a way to incapacitate them long enough for you to close their portals and destroy their weapons?" she asked. "To defang the lion without killing it? The K'areshi have developed a device that," she looked down, as if reading something, "that disperses a gas which will put humans, including human spellcasters, in a deep sleep lasting several hours." She looked up at him. "Would you be willing to use such a device against the Kirin Tor?"

It was an appealing idea. The gas would allow the elves to disarm the Kirin Tor with a minimum of fighting—and if Telestra was wrong, if the Kirin Tor did not in fact have weapons, the humans would wake without knowing that the elves had been in their village. The worst that could happen would be a period of diplomatic tension, which would be subsumed by the news of the sin'dorei joining the Horde.

Either way, a show of force that didn't actually harm anyone would send a clear message that Kael and his people were not to be trifled with. "I will need to discuss it with my advisors," Kael said, "but they will likely need very little convincing to give their approval."

"Good." Telestra relaxed. "Shall we talk about something else?"

Initially Kael had planned to tell her everything, from his encounter with the girl and her protector while visiting the extinguished Sunwell, to Rommath's claims as to the pair's identity, but her bloodthirstiness had made him vaguely uneasy.

Then again, she did not need all the details to answer his question. "There is… something that only you can help me with."

"Oh?" She smiled. "I'm listening."

"It seems that when the Sunwell was destroyed, a dragon shaped lingering traces of uncorrupted arcane energy into the form of a human girl. Could you find out why they did such a thing, or what they might intend to do with her?"

Telestra frowned slightly. "Dragons," she said, after a long pause, "in some ways, they are like us. Intelligent, they crave knowledge and wield magic with utter grace. Some are tender-hearted and generous; others can be secretive, capricious, or even vindictive… yet, behind all that, they are ancient creatures, so immensely powerful as to be almost beyond our comprehension." Her voice held a reverent awe that Kael had never heard her express before. She gave a little start, then said more lightly, "I doubt they would discuss their plans with lowly elves such as we."

"That is… well, that is the answer I expected."

Telestra looked thoughtful. "And yet… was it a blue dragon that created this human girl? Where is she now? Is she alone?"

"I do not know. She was last seen on—in northern Lordaeron."

"All these centuries, and still you are a poor liar," Telestra said, sounding more amused than angry. "Tell me this, at least: what made you think the Blue Dragonflight will answer your questions?"

Kael hesitated, then said, "The girl was—perhaps still is—in the company of a young man. Some allege he Is a blue dragon." It was a small detail; Kael didn't see what harm admitting it could do.

Now Telestra looked surprised. "A Blue who chooses to take human form rather than elven? Are you certain? Very few prefer that form."

"Yes, although I only saw him once. He looked human, or possibly half-elf."

Telestra nodded. "Oh… interesting. I may be able to get some answers for you, after all."

.

As anticipated, Telestra's request received unanimous approval from Sarannis, Telonicus, Pathaleon—and Capernian, newly delegated by Rommath to be the voice of the magisters in Astalor's stead. Telestra was delighted, and said that she would send the device to them via special courier.

They had just begun to discuss, once again, the issue of joining the Horde, when a new image appeared above the communication disc, a K'areshi wearing dark violet and black robes over a red energy core. "Greetings, sin'dorei," it said smoothly. "Is Prince Kael'thas present?"

"I am," Kael said. "To whom am I speaking?"

"You may call me Wind Trader Xevozz. I have a very special parcel for you. Is the time appropriate for its delivery?"

"Yes."

There was a blinding flash of pinkish light, and then Xevozz stood before them. The K'areshi placed a silvery sphere, five or so handbreadths in diameter, on the table. The surface of the sphere was decorated with golden arabesques and enamelled blue circles.

"And this is what?" Pathaleon asked.

"The designation is mana suppression device," Xevozz said. "Who will be assigned responsibility for its activation?"

"I will," Sarannis said.

Xevozz teleported off the table to stand next to her, and then handed her a small strip of metal. "This is the controller. The location is pre-programmed. The top section will flash as soon as the target area is in range. It is advised that the device be activated at the maximum range of the controller. Press the center section to activate. It is advised that your forces not advance until the deterrent has dissipated. The bottom section will flash blue when a sufficient amount of time has passed."

"What precisely will it do?" Kael asked. "This mana suppression device?"

"It was developed to Magna Telestra's specifications," Xevozz replied. "We were not paid to ask questions."

It was an unsettling response.

"How often do your people do this sort of work?" Pathaleon asked.

"When the proposal is intriguing."

"I'd like to see the schematics," Telonicus said.

"That is not possible. K'areshi technology and designs are proprietary." Xevozz stepped away from the table. "This concludes our transaction."

"Wait!" Telonicus said. "I only want to understand how it's put together in case there is any problem deploying it!"

"There will be no problems during deployment," Xevozz said. "Our fabrication techniques are highly optimized and result in extreme reliability."

But then, rather than teleport away, he simply stood, swaying.

"Oh, I see." Pathaleon chuckled. He turned to Telonicus. "Everything has a price. Unless I've completely misread the situation, I believe we now simply need to counter-offer."

"Your assessment is correct," Xevozz said.

"What could we possibly have that you'd want?" Freywinn asked, glancing at Sarannis.

"A minor concession," Xevozz said. "Retain me as your consultant in otherworld technology, and allow me exclusive rights to examine any unusual artifacts you may encounter."

"Easily done," Pathaleon said, but Sarannis objected, saying, "Wait a minute. Remember how well our arrangement with Siteet and Wind Trader Kajastus worked out?"

"Siteet and Kajastus? The K'areshi who delivered the communication device to you?" Xevozz asked. "How very… opportunistic of them. What were the terms of your agreement with them, if I may be so presumptuous?"

"Four dragonhawks and twelve eggs in exchange for information about the fortress."

"I see… I assure you, they had no authorization to trade in this area. I will see that the goods you traded to them are returned and the contract nullified. They cannot offer even a thousandth of the resources I command as an official representative of the Consortium."

"That's good to hear," Telonicus said, and looked at Sarannis.

She threw up her hands. "If Xevozz can get my 'hawks and my eggs back, I don't care who we deal with."

"Excellent," Xevozz said. "Now, tell me what else I might be able to do for you… "

.

Telonicus had asked for a day or two to study the suppression device schematics, so Kael went over to the blue ship—now being called the Botanica—to meet with Sarannis.

"How is the dragonhawk breeding program progressing?"

"Very well." She unrolled an aerial image of the Farahlon jungle. "This is the map of the area as it looks now," she said. "And this... " She lay a transparent sheet marked with irregular rings of color and thin black outlines over the image, "is what the energy signature of the area looked like before the settlement was cloaked. The shoreline makes it easier to line up."

"Xevozz gave you this?"

Sarannis looked dour. "In exchange for the dragonhawks recovered from Siteet and Kajastus."

"Ah."

"This," she pointed to a large X in the center of the map, "is likely the command center. The heat patterns north of this tower," she pointed to a large green and yellow speckled section, "suggest a civilian area. Fields of crops, barns, cottages. On the other hand, according to Xevozz, this red," she pointed to an area east of the tower, "generally indicates metallic objects."

"And the clusters of blue west of the tower?"

"Magical energy."

"Kirin Tor mages," Kael nodded. "What about our forces?"

"We have enough magisters and archers to protect the engineers while they disable the weapons. I don't imagine the non-mage villagers will give us much resistance, but we'll have a number of menders with us just in case."

"Good. Where will you establish our base?"

"Somewhere along this ridge." She traced a line well west of the settlement. "The device's target is likely to be in the southern section of the village, the tower or the mage area, so we'll want to be as far north as we can while still taking advantage of the high ground. The vegetation will hide our approach to some extent, but it might not hurt to be as invisible to the Kirin Tor as their village is to us."

"I agree." Kael considered the map. "To conceal an area this size would require warding crystals to amplify their shielding spell. If only we could find one..."

There was a clatter in the hall.

Three elves came in. Each was clad in black armor trimmed with red; each wore a tabard with a stylized phoenix in red on a black background.

With them was a strange crystal construct, with jointed arms and legs made of large rune-inscribed crystal shards attached to an inverted triangle of a body.

"You are?"

"Blood Knights, your Majesty," one said. "Master Bloodsworn sent us."

"And what is that?" Sarannis pointed to the crystal figure.

"The Grand Magister's creation. He calls it an arcane guardian."

...

They named the encampment Sunfury Hold. Hidden by the magisters, the two-story structure had a barracks below, while the open upper level provided an unobstructed view of the surrounding terrain. At the moment, this upper level was filled with dozens of engineers and researchers from the fortress who, while not slated to participate in the operation, had nevertheless set aside their work to see the Kirin Tor humiliated.

Below them, gathered in front of the hold, along the ridge that overlooked the hidden Kirin Tor settlement to the east, Kael and his company of mages and engineers—now newly-bolstered by nearly thirty blood knights—were assembling.

From what Kael could see, the blood knights had been a very welcome addition to his forces in Outland. More and more people used their free hours to watch the knights spar, and a few had been so inspired they went off to Silvermoon to become blood knights themselves. Daelis the Farstrider had gone so far as to start wearing a blood knight tabard, while Gathios had been lured out of Illidan's temple to train with them over the past few days—a fact that secretly pleased Kael no end. Sanguinar, one of the original arrivals, had been appointed by Sarannis as Kael's second bodyguard.

"Whenever you are ready, Commander."

Sarannis nodded. Telonicus handed Daelis the device, and then he and Sarannis walked south.

"I can't believe you took it apart so that you could look inside," Pathaleon muttered to Telonicus. "I hope it still works."

"Well, the handful of pieces left over after I put it back together didn't look very important, so I threw them away," he said dryly.

"Quiet," Kael admonished.

Sarannis, who had been watching the lights on the K'areshi controller, stopped; she and Daelis were nearly to the treeline. "The target just came into range," she said.

"Send it," Kael called to her.

Daelis held up the device; a moment later it floated up from his hands, then sped through the trees.

"I wonder how long—" Capernian started to ask.

There was an enormous flash of light, and then a muffled boom. Trees churned in the resulting blast of wind—and then vanished as the village that had been sketched on Sarannis' map became visible.

In the center of the village, a large, violet-roofed tower of white stone drew the eye; behind it, further to the east, was what looked like a large town hall. To the left of the tower, a covered bridge led to the northern section of the settlement, where small barns, sheds, and cottages were scattered between fields of crops. To the right of the tower, a cloud of thick blue-green mist concealed the southwest section of the village; as they watched, the mist expanded to engulf the base of the violet-roofed tower as well.

"That tower looks like their only defensive structure," Daelis said. "It's where I'd put an armory."

"We can't go near the tower or the mage quarter until the sleep gas dissipates," Sarannis said. "We'll start in the northern section and make our way south. The weapons could be hidden in an unexpected location, so search thoroughly but quickly."

"Ideally, we will finish our search and be well away before the Kirin Tor mages awaken," Kael said. "Keep in mind that our targets are the weapons. If you come across townspeople, threaten, restrain, or incapacitate them if absolutely necessary, but avoid doing lasting harm."

.

They found no weapons in the northern half of the village—but more surprising was that, despite freshly-turned furrows in the fields and animals munching feed in the barns, they found no farmers.

"They have to be here somewhere," Pathaleon said. "Fields don't plow themselves."

"They had time to hide," Sarannis pointed out. "Not much, to be sure, but they could have done it."

"They might be in the chapel," Thaladred said, pointing to the small spire that poked up above the treetops to the northeast. "Humans often gather in such places. It's also an excellent hiding place for weapons."

Like every other Alliance chapel, the chapel in the Kirin Tor village was a small building in the midst of a carefully tended graveyard. Most of the gravestones were at least ten years old; very few were recent.

Inside the chapel, a lone human knelt in prayer. He stumbled to his feet as they entered, clutching at the pew. "Don't kill me," he begged. He was of middle age, with wispy pale hair; his tattered robe bore a faded Kirin Tor insignia.

"We don't intend to," Sarannis said. "Just tell us where the weapons are."

"I don't know anything about weapons! I am but a lowly apprentice," he said.

"Where are the rest of the villagers?" Thaladred asked, "Did someone tell you to evacuate?"

"No," the man shook his head, "I don't know where the others are. There was no warning. I was here when I heard the explosion." He put his hands over his face. "Light help me! I am a coward, and so I hid."

"But why up here?" Thaladred murmured to Kael and Sarannis, too quietly for the human to hear. "That little doorway in the shadows over there obviously leads underground; why did he not descend to a place that would offer more protection during an attack?"

"Why indeed?" Sarannis said. "Thaladred, take a group to search the lower level."

The human took his hands away from his face and looked at first as if he were going to object, but then instead simply hung his head and hunched over. "What are you going to do with me?" he asked tremulously.

"We haven't decided yet."

He whimpered and wrung his hands.

"Really overplaying the frightened old man act, isn't he?" Pathaleon observed. "Probably hopes we'll leave him alone so that he can contact the Kirin Tor."

"Oh, the Kirin Tor!" The man dropped his pretense, lifting his head and throwing his shoulders back. "I don't give a fig about the Kirin Tor! If you're the ones who sent the bomb, be assured I won't seek revenge! All I want to do is live out the rest my life peacefully here in the village, studying medicine."

Thaladred and the others came back a few moments later. "No weapons, but we did find a hidden cache of necromancy books—"

"What?!" the man said.

"—and few dozen farmers and tradespeople hiding in the cellar. They said that someone named Naberius told them they'd be safe down there as long as they were absolutely quiet."

"I'm Naberius," the man said. "What did you do with them? Did you kill them?"

"No, of course not!" Thaladred replied, then said to Kael, "They preferred to stay put, so I locked them in." He held up a key. "We can let them out when we're done."

"And me?" Naberius asked. "Can I stay here as well? I won't cause any trouble."

"No, I think we'll bring you with us," Daelis said, "in case your new honesty is also an act."

.

They crossed a bridge that spanned a creek dividing the farmland from the rest of the village. As they neared the end of the bridge, Telonicus stopped.

"That's odd," he said. "The paint at the northern end of the bridge is fresh, and the wood solid," he said. But this—" he flicked at the peeling paint, revealing wood that looked as though it had been exposed to the elements for years. "Why is it so different?"

Pathaleon took his arm. "Now is the time for finding weapon caches, not for science."

Tendrils of sleep gas still coiled around the base of the tower, so they spread out to search the blacksmith's, the town hall, and the shops and cottages surrounding the village square. All of these were empty as well, although once again there were signs that each location had been hastily evacuated—ingots cooling near the forge, logs still burning in fireplaces, fresh scraps on midden piles, damp laundry on clotheslines.

Once again, they didn't find any weapons.

"Where are they?" Kael asked.

As they moved southwest out of the square, skirting the tower, they caught the first glimpse of the area of the village that had been the device's target. The buildings that rose from the ground-hugging remains of the mist were derelict: broken, roofless, many with only a single wall standing.

"I don't understand," Capernian said. "It looks abandoned. Why release the gas down there if there weren't any mages?"

"But there were mages," Naberius said faintly. "That's why it's called Wizard's Row." He looked utterly mystified. "My cottage was blue, with yellow shutters."

Granted, Naberius' reaction could have been more playacting, but Kael could see no reason for it; no, the suppression device had somehow damaged the buildings. Kael had a dizzying feeling that there were elements at work that he knew nothing of, that what should have been a simple operation was collapsing into chaos.

"Could the device have done that?" Kael asked Telonicus, but he shrugged and began running down the path toward Wizard's Row.

"Stop!" Pathaleon shouted. "It'll put you to sleep too!"

"I'm not a mage," Telonicus tossed back, "and the gas is almost dissipated." He stopped at the first ruin. "It's the same as the bridge," he said, examining a door jamb that held no door. "The wood is deteriorating, the way it would if it had been left unpainted and then exposed to years of wind and sun and rain."

Kael turned around and looked at the tower. "But if it was the device that damaged the bridge," he said, "the tower would have been affected as well."

"Archmage Vargoth probably protected it," Naberius said sourly, "Cowering in there with his new favorite."

Pathaleon looked alarmed. "If Vargoth shielded the tower—is still shielding it—the gas wouldn't have reached him. We've got to stop him before he contacts the Kirin Tor! "

"So we need to get that shield down as—"

"Hurry!" Telonicus shouted. "I need a mender!" He was fanning lingering traces of mist away from the body of a human female in a Kirin Tor robe, but her grey skin and the rictus of shock frozen on her face told clearly that she was beyond anything a healer could do.

Telonicus looked up, pale and shaken. "The gas was supposed to incapacitate them," he said, "to put them to sleep. Not do this. Not kill them." He grimaced. "What if it's my fault? What if I made a mistake when I reassembled it?"

Pathaleon ran down into the mist and tried to pull him away from the body. "You wouldn't make a mistake like that, it's impossible! Come now, leave her."

"The device must have been defective to begin with," someone suggested, but as the mist continued to clear and they saw a second body, and then a third, and beyond them more, it occurred to Kael that perhaps there had been no mistake or defect, that perhaps the device had done exactly what it had been designed to do. It was a horrible, gut-wrenching thought, with shattering implications, and at the moment he wanted nothing more than to shut himself away somewhere until he could find a way to restore equilibrium to his world.

But his people, dismayed and confused, were looking to him to lead them, and so for now, the best course, the only course, was to proceed as planned until everything was revealed.

"We will find the cause later," he told them. "For now, we must continue the search."

There was a flash of violet light. A red-bearded human dressed in gaudy robes appeared, and struck the ground with the bottom of his staff, freezing all but a handful of Kael's people into massive blocks of ice.

Vargoth. "Go!" Kael shouted to those who had not been trapped. "I will deal with the archmage!"

"Murderers! You dare to attack the Kirin Tor?" Vargoth swung his staff to send out an arc of deadly ice shards after the runners. "The Council of Dalaran and the Convocation will hear of this!"

"The Convocation is no more, and the Council left my people to die!" Kael shot back, throwing shields over his people and himself and then sending a succession of fireballs at Vargoth that quickly ate through the archmage's ice barrier. "What happened here was an accident, Vargoth! We did not intend to do your people harm!"

"Lies!" Vargoth slammed the end of his staff into the ground again, and began to channel a savage ice storm that battered at Kael's shields. "Why else do you invade our village?" He hurled an icy comet.

Behind Vargoth's back, Kael could see the flickers of fire and holy magic as the magisters and blood knights worked to break their icy prisons. If he could hold off the human until they were free…

"Naberius!" the archmage grunted through clenched teeth as he began to channel a waterjet. "Assist me! Attack these villainous dogs!"

Naberius held up his shackled hands. "I cannot! They have bewitched me!"

With an angry snort, Vargoth surrounded himself with a swirling frost shield, then held up his staff. "Come to me, Glacius!" he intoned. "Aid your master!"

 _"Anar'anel belore!"_ Kael shouted as soon as he saw a water elemental begin to coalesce. Still shielded against the minion's attack, he smiled as Al'ar's war cry made Vargoth look up in momentary fear. As the phoenix plummeted toward him the archmage conjured a final, furious hailstorm, then vanished.

Al'ar's talons snapped at the collapsing column of water where Glacius had stood, soared once around the tower, and then spiraled down to drop a pale blue stone into Kael's hand.

"Hurry!" Kael said as he and Al'ar freed those still trapped in Vargoth's ice prisons. "Get through that shield!"

"Are you going to kill him? Naberius asked.

"No," Kael said, "there has been too much death already. But we must stop him from bringing the wrath of the Kirin Tor down on Silvermoon."

"You'll have to destroy the crystal in the staff," Naberius said. "As long as the crystal exists, he can draw on its power. Even his body resonates with it."

"What do you get from telling us this?" Thaladred asked.

Naberius' face contorted into hatred. "For years Vargoth controlled everything I did or read or talked about," he said. "The only thoughts he approved of were those that echoed his own. Everything else was punished. You have no idea what it's like to just…" He looked away. "And still I swallowed my pride and served as his devoted apprentice. For nearly twenty years, until that devious elf Ravandwyr came along and turned him against me!"

"Even without his elemental," Kael said, "he's too powerful for us to get close enough to take the staff from him."

"If we charged him—"

"Too many would die," Kael said. "We must find another way."

"What if..." Telonicus said. "What if we could use destructive interference? If we can tune the crystal in the arcane guardian to vibrate at same frequency as Vargoth and his staff, but precisely out of phase, the resonances might cancel each other out."

"And that will help because?"

"Because that might shatter the crystal completely. At the very least, it should block its power."

"And pain," Naberius said. "It will cause him excruciating pain." He was nearly gleeful.

Telonicus glanced at Naberius with mild distaste. "The trick will be finding the right frequency."

"Won't we know we've found it when his shield comes down?" Sarannis pointed out. "Until then we should keep him busy."

"Yes." Kael handed Telonicus the Glacius sapphire. "This might be a good starting point. Mages and knights, with me."

The shield outside the tower was formidable; Kael had not encountered its equal since the days of the Second War when he and Antonidas had shielded Dalaran—and knowing how to create a shield does not always allow one to break a shield. Still, as Telonicus and Spellbinder Maryana worked to adapt the arcane guardian into a resonant emitter, Kael first tried all the counterspells he knew to bring down Vargoth's shield. When that did not work, he and those who had the energy attacked the shield, knowing that doing so would distract Vargoth and tax his endurance.

"It sounded as though he didn't know anything about the fate of the Convocation," Capernian said, "or Dalaran, or the Council. He must not be able to communicate with the Kirin Tor on Azeroth."

"A dangerous assumption," Kael said.

He had drained all the energy in his verdant crystals and was nearly exhausted when he felt an odd ripple of energy pass through him, followed by a low thrumming sound that made his ears ache.

Vargoth's shield vanished. There was the faint sound of shouting, and a scream.

Kael and the other elves backed away from the tower. "I guess it worked," Pathaleon said.

"Blood knights, with me!" Sarannis said. "Find those weapons!"

"Make sure to remove any magical apparatus you come across," Kael added as Sarannis charged past the arcane guardian and into the tower, "especially scrying materials."

Thaladred indicated Naberius and asked, "What should we do with him?"

"Let him go," Kael said. "Help him bury the dead."

"If you don't mind," Naberius said, "I would prefer that you simply bring the bodies to the chapel so that I can tend to each interment personally. Wrapping them in a shroud and dumping them in the ground to rot isn't how I'd like to honor their memories."

"Of course," Kael said, chastised.

"What will you tell the surviving townspeople about why Vargoth's in the tower?" Capernian asked Naberius. "Won't they try to let him out?"

"They won't be able to," Maryana said. "Now that the dampening field is in place, Vargoth cannot be freed without a specially-tuned keystone."

"I'll tell them that Vargoth's imprisonment is a sign of your great power, and your mercy," Naberius said.

Kael did not for a moment believe this was sincere.

.

After a small group of volunteers gathered up the deceased from Wizard's Row and left to escort Naberius back to the chapel, Kael and his remaining forces entered the tower to aid in the search. The vibrations from the arcane guardian were unpleasant, but not unbearable.

Kael had just begun to climb the second set of stairs when there was a hideous roaring from outside.

He and the others raced down just in time to see one of the fortress' satellite ships appear from the northeast—flying so low that it looked at though it would crash into Sunfury Hold—bank sharply, and then, wrapped in a web of scarlet lightning, scream past the tower and out of sight southeast of the village.

"Was that the Mechanar?" Kael asked, immediately mourning the loss of the hundreds of mana-cubes the ship had contained. If only they had been able to learn more!

"No," Telonicus said, "it was the fourth ship. The one that was entirely uninhabitable." He turned to look northeast, in the direction of the fortress. "We were preparing to move it and its collectors away from the fortress, but my crew wouldn't have gone ahead with that while I was gone."

"Well, someone must have been flying it. Unless it's piloting itself," Pathaleon said.

Telonicus looked back at Kael and Pathaleon. There was more than a hint of panic in his expression.

"Go," Kael said, "Find out what happened. Take some of the blood knights with you. We will meet you back at the fortress as quickly as we can."

...

Ultimately, their search of the tower turned up only three scrying bowls, a number of curiously shaped wands, a box of enchanted scarves, and a glowing sigil that Kael gave to Spellbinder Maryana as a reward for her help with the arcane guardian. Despite Naberius's assertion that he was in the tower, they saw no sign of Vargoth's apprentice Ravandwyr; they also did not find Vargoth's staff—not that it mattered, obviously it would no longer serve him—despite a thorough search under the withering glare of the rigid and furiously  silent archmage.

There were also no weapons, and so once the burial detail had returned from the chapel they flew back to the fortress.

They were directed to meet Telonicus outside. The two collectors, hovering and now attached to nothing, made the absence of the fourth ship even more conspicuous.

Telonicus saw them and hurried over. "Here's what I know," he said. "While the rest of us were at Sunfury Hold, a minimal crew stayed here to monitor the ship, as they have been constantly since we arrived. Shortly after we left, the readings began fluctuating, as if the energy inside the collectors was surging. Two engineers donned safety equipment and headed over here to investigate; they sent a message back saying that the pipes of both collectors had retracted, and that the collectors were docked directly to the ship, one on each side. The next thing the crew inside knew, half the master console lit up and alarms started going off as the ship broke away from the fortress."

Kael nodded. "And the engineers who were outside?"

"The second team to reach the collectors found one of them on the platform, dead. The other is missing; likely knocked off the platform into the void when the ship blasted free." He clenched his jaw. "Whoever killed our people and stole that ship has been feeding us false readings since we arrived."

"Why?" Pathaleon asked.

"No doubt to keep us from discovering their presence," Kael said. "They bided their time, waiting for the right opportunity."

"If they've been here all along, why didn't they steal it sooner?"

"They knew we were learning about the fortress," Telonicus said. "They must have thought we knew enough to interfere with the theft."

"Or they were waiting for something." Thaladred said.

Kael was about to ask what their enemies could possibly have been waiting for when an image of Thaladred's friend Sirona appeared on one of Telonicus' projectors.

"Sirona," Telonicus said. "You're alive! We thought you'd been blasted into the void. What happened out there?"

"Yes, I am alive, but stories must wait," she said quickly. "I was able to board the ship before it was taken from the fortress. There was a malfunction. The ship crashed on Azeroth, on islands northwest of Kalimdor. I have managed to infiltrate an area of the wreckage—"

"Wreckage?"

"—that I can use to create a portal between my location and the fortress, but once I create a portal they will know I am here. If you can send sufficient defenders through, we can salvage the key technology for further study. With time, we might even be able to repair the navigation module and fly it to Silvermoon."

Kael gestured to Thaladred, who hurried out the room.

"We will have defenders standing by in a moment," he told Sirona.

"Excellent," she said. ""I will begin generating the portal."

A shimmering red oval appeared at the far end of the room; moments later, Thaladred returned, and sent half a dozen blood knights into it. "More are on the way," he told Kael.

As the blurry forms of the blood knights appeared behind Sirona, she said, "Very good. He will be pleased."

"Your initiative is to be commended, engineer," Kael said. "Before you go reclaim that ship for the glory of the sin'dorei, tell me, who are the thieves? And how did you manage to elude discovery?"

"They are draenei, my lord," she said, "And as for the other…" She laughed, and then shook her head. "They are a very trusting people."

Before his eyes, she changed. Fel green elven eyes curdled into eyes as milky as moonstones; glossy black hair twisted into coils of dark green. Dark grey horns swept back from the sides of her head; thin tendrils of flesh sprouted behind her ears and trailed down her neck. She looked to Kael almost like a mixture of the demons he had seen among Magtheridon's forces—what did Akama call them? Eredar?—and Akama himself.

"What are you?" Kael asked.

"An engineer," she said lightly, "who has picked up a bit of magecraft. Knowing how to cast a convincing glamour has been surprisingly useful."

.

Kael had been exhausted since the battle with Vargoth, but the activity concerning the stolen ship and Sirona's transmission had been exciting enough that they'd kept him going for a while; however, after six groups of blood knights, mages, engineers, and surveyors had gone through Sirona's portals, his energy waned again.

Thaladred approached. "You look tired, my lord, but I know what will reinvigorate you. The researchers found something among the mana-cubes in the Mechanar that I know you will want to see."

The Mechanar was eerily empty, but Kael supposed that those who had participated in the mission against the Kirin Tor were off recovering, and most of the rest had gone through the portal to aid Sirona.

Thaladred led him to a corner, then took a small metal case from behind a stack of metal bars. "Here," he said as he set the case before Kael. "Open it." He stepped back, smiling faintly.

Inside was a cube different than any Kael had seen. Where the others were transparent, filled with the luminous arcane vapor, this one was filled with a swirling something so dark it seemed to draw all the light in the room into itself and obliterate it. This cube differed too in that it had symbols etched into its top and the two sides that Kael could see.

He picked it up, curious to see what symbols were on the reverse faces.

Pain lanced up his arm, a pain that was even worse than the agony he had endured using magic during the period of the Corruption. He tried to drop the cube, but could not; he tried to call out to Thaladred to help him, but he had no voice. All he could see was Thaladred, falling further and further away, his face stretching into a grotesque, malicious grin, surrounded by horns and wings and claws.

And then Kael found himself elsewhere, face-down on a dusty stone surface. The cube was gone. There was no sign of Thaladred.

He pushed himself to his hands and knees, and looked around. "I know this place," he whispered. He was in Shadowmoon Valley, on the highest terrace of Illidan's Temple, but that was not all—for he stood before a seething, all-consuming inferno of rage and hatred, an immense being of flame that was about to strangle the world in its fiery grip.

Kael remembered, with a paralyzing terror, the first time he had stood before this being. Back then, he had not known the name of the one he faced.

He did now. "Kil'jaeden." Terror pushed the name past his lips. Why had the cube brought him here?

"I can do something for you, Prince Kael'thas." The words were not heard so much as felt in the mind, each like a red-hot cautery blade.

"I have no need of assistance," Kael said, trembling.

"Oh? In the fortress you currently occupy are objects that you do not understand," Kil'jaeden said. "Those I command are drawn from innumerable worlds; I will send to you those who have the knowledge you require. In return you will perform a task for me. Do it exceptionally well, and I will reward you with more power than you can imagine."

The incongruity of it, that this inconceivably powerful archdemon was negotiating with him like… a K'areshi, made Kael explode with nervous laughter. "Illidan also promised us sources of power," he said, his laughter quickly overtaken by scorn. "Thus far all he has shown us is how to siphon power from demons. Lesser demons," he added.

"And that is not sufficient?" Kil'jaeden didn't seem to be taking offense at Kael's words or behavior.

"No," Kael said. "My people abhor fel power, but even if they did not, siphoning demons is inadequate. A stopgap."

"What you seek is to restore your people to what they were before your Sunwell was corrupted and destroyed. Illidan does not have access to anything that can accomplish that," Kil'jaeden said. "I do."

Kael was suddenly terrified again; why had he let himself forget to whom he was speaking, with whom he was bargaining? If Illidan was to be believed, Kil'jaeden was the one who had created the Lich King, and the Scourge, and Arthas. He was not only a demon, he was the one who had set in motion the events that had destroyed the Sunwell, that had nearly destroyed Kael's people. He was a supreme evil; dealing with him would be utter folly. "I don't—" he began hesitantly.

He was hurled to the ground. The sky of Shadowmoon was gone; the fire and the stone terrace beneath him were gone as well. He was adrift in an infinite void, where no one could hear him scream as the torrent of magic descended, choking him, filling his nostrils, penetrating his body. Every muscle cramped in agony; his vision blinded past the threshold of color… It went on and on, past his ability to endure, boiling his blood, swelling his flesh, shattering his bones, emptying his mind and will until he was less than nothing, and then he felt himself falling, falling, until he sank into icy water and was swallowed by darkness.

.

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_~ Next chapter: Betrayals ~_

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_ first post 30 June 2016; rev 22 Oct 2017 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to **Bryn** , for continuing to beta my increasingly chaotic rough drafts; to **Mipe** , for letting me bounce ideas about the characterizations of Voren'thal, Akama, Sironas, and Kil'jaeden; and to **Stinger** , for putting up with the half-dozen sessions it took to hash out the narrative flow for the Kirin Var Village section.


	18. Grand Magister's Asylum (Kael'thas), Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the enemy is among you, whom can you trust?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters in this chapter are canon.
> 
> Note: In an attempt to fit in as many BC quest chains as possible, I've played a bit loose with some of the chronology (which isn't always internally consistent anyhow).
> 
> About the rating: I waffled about whether to bump this to "M," as there's some potentially intense stuff, rather more darkness overall, and some subtext that some might find disturbing. I decided to keep it "T" because to many, an "M" rating promises softcore porn… which one won't find here.

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~ : |18| : ~

_I'll turn your world... upside... down._

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Surprised by my appearance, are you?

There is a time for misdirection, distraction, deception—they are distasteful, but often necessary—and a time for truth. My people needed the illusion, but you are not worth the effort.

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… 1 …

He had no memory of falling asleep, but he had the distinct sensation of awakening, in a place that was cold and silent. Bewildered and disoriented, he forced himself to open his eyes.

Above him was a dark blue shimmer.

After a few blinks he realized that it was a filmy cloth draped like a canopy above him, shading his eyes from a lamp suspended from the ceiling. He tried to sit up, but he was so weak, so drained of physical strength and magical power, that it was as if he was back in Dalaran's prison. Instinctively he tried to draw power from the ancient mooncrystals that were the core of his verdant spheres, but they were gone.

The burst of panic that followed this realization gave him enough energy to roll onto his side, pull aside the bed coverings, and push himself up to a sitting position.

Was he perhaps in a prison after all? He was wearing a long sleeveless tunic of coarsely-woven gray cloth, little more than a grain sack with holes for head and arms, and the room was small, barely large enough for the bed and a single chair. The door was closed; he had to find out if it was locked or not. Using the chair next to the bed as a crutch, he stood. His limbs ached; it took effort to move when even his thoughts were sluggish. The floor beneath his bare feet was smooth stone, neither warm nor cold. He shuffled toward the door, leaning against the wall for support until each wave of dizziness had passed.

The door was not locked.

The hallway was dark except for the far end, where light and laughter spilled from an unseen doorway. As he moved toward it, the scent of incense began to prick his nostrils, and he wondered what was being celebrated.

When he reached the doorway, he stood unnoticed and took in a sight that puzzled, angered, and sickened him by turns. Several dozen sin'dorei lay on cushions smoking bloodthistle pipes; others drunkenly passed around bottles of burnwine. A few were fornicating with blank-eyed humans, or following succubi to less public alcoves.

"What is this?" Kael whispered, then turned as he heard someone moving in the hallway behind him.

It was Illidan, with Selin and Delrissa. "This is what some require to cope with despair," Illidan said. "Those who cannot face the abyss must deny its existence by turning away from it."

Kael was furious, but chose his words as carefully as he was able. "When I came to visit Varedis," he said. "you told me that you were providing temporary lodging and provisioning for my people. I was not aware that hospitality required setting up a thistle den."

"Perhaps you should listen to your people more carefully," Illidan replied. "This is what they told my Illidari council they wanted. Comfort. A chance to escape their woes."

Kael looked back into the room. "I was taught that it is not wise to give one's subjects everything they demand, simply because they have asked for it." He could tolerate Illidan's patronizing attitude, but seducing his people this way, buying their loyalty with indolence while Kael was asking them to exert themselves to build a home here… it was intolerable. He intended to push past the three of them and stride away, but a wave of dizziness made him stagger.

Delrissa steadied him. "Rest, Prince Kael'thas," the shivarra said in barely intelligible Thalassian. "From a great height you fell. Your body is yet unmended."

"Perhaps you should return to your guest room," Illidan said. "You seem to have had quite an ordeal yesterday before the Coilskar found you and brought you to me."

"How long have I been here?" Kael asked Selin. He was too angry to speak to Illidan, and didn't trust himself not to say something irrevocable.

"Not quite a day," Selin said.

"Where are my crystals?"

"Ah, yes," Illidan said. "All three were charged with a dangerous excess of magical power; I isolated them for safekeeping." He made an abrupt gesture, and a narrow, jagged slice of utter darkness appeared. It looked like a rip in the air—which, impossibly enough, it seemed to be, as Illidan was able to reach into it and pull out the spheres. They swirled and pulsed with a blinding green light. "Clever, how you made use of the crystal cores to draw off the excess magical energy that was poisoning you," Illidan said as he handed the spheres to Kael. "I drained them to safe levels before putting them into storage."

As Kael took them, he wondered at Illidan's definition of 'safe,' for the crystals were charged with an enormous amount of energy, at least a hundred times more than they had ever held before—but rather than the radiant, purified energy of the arcane, it was unfiltered fel. Kael shuddered with revulsion.

"Is something wrong?" Illidan asked.

"No." Given a choice he would rather have had an arcane source to draw upon, but was it better to hold to his principles and remain weak… or, just this once, to be practical and restore himself? Kael took a deep, steadying breath and drew on the power in one of the spheres. As he felt strength and power sweep through him, relief was quickly overshadowed by shame—and then irritation. If he could not set aside his prejudices, he might as well join Renthar and Aurora and become a convert to the Pure Mana Movement. After all, when dying men crawl out of the desert, they do not reject the water of the oasis because it is a little muddy.

"I am curious how you came to be so affected with such a surfeit of fel energy," Illidan said.

Kael—who couldn't tell if Illidan's faint smile indicated approval, amusement, or disdain—let go of the spheres and levitated them, allowing them to take their natural orbit while he considered what to say. It didn't seem likely that Illidan had had anything to do with the strange cube in the Mechanar, since he would have no need for such an elaborate scheme to act as Kil'jaeden's agent. Given that, Kael couldn't think of any reason to withhold the information about his meeting… and perhaps telling the truth would sting Illidan a little, show him that he was wrong to treat Kael so dismissively. "Your master wished to meet with me."

The next instant Illidan had slammed him against the wall, his hand around Kael's throat. "I knew it! You are plotting against me!"

"No," Kael choked out, as Selin pulled ineffectively at Illidan's arm.

"You're lying," Illidan hissed. His grip tightened, claws beginning to pierce Kael's skin. "Kil'jaeden has finally decided to punish me for my failures, hasn't he?"

Kael could see no way to free himself: Illidan was too close, too strong. He struggled as his vision began to dim, furious that his life would end thus, at the hands of this paranoid half-demon; he lashed out with his anger, imagining it taking form and plunging into the chest of his attacker.

An instant later Illidan released him and staggered back, a dagger buried hilt-deep just above his heart. "How?" he gasped as he pulled it out and dropped it to the floor. The scarlet pommel glowed in the dim light for a moment before dissolving into a red mist.

"I conjured it," Kael said. His throat hurt; when he touched it, his fingertips came away coated with his blood.

"I had not thought you capable of such ferocity." Illidan winced and pressed his palm over his stab wound to slow the bleeding. "Forgive me, young one. I have not been myself of late. Delrissa, heal him."

Delrissa smoothed a glow from her hands over Kael's neck, intoning something in Eredun. Selin did not translate, but the look he gave Kael seemed to plead for—what? Tolerance? Patience? Honesty? "I did not ask for the meeting," Kael said after Delrissa had finished. "I was tricked into going."

"Tricked? How?" Illidan asked.

For all that Kael found Illidan's imperiousness and condescension infuriating, it was becoming more and more obvious that it was a fragile mask over a fearful, chaotic mind. For a moment Kael wished he could have met Illidan before his imprisonment, before he had been eroded by thousands of years alone in the dark. "I was in the Mechanar, examining a strange cube with Thaladred," he said.

"Thaladred… One of your advisors?"

"Yes. He has been with my forces since Lordaeron. Was one of those imprisoned by Garithos after Vashj aided us. Since Northrend, he has given me well-considered counsel."

"Those closest to us can strike the deepest," Illidan said. "Vashj has offered to search for this Thaladred. She has Coilskars and Greyhearts standing by. Do you want him alive?"

"Yes, of course," Kael said, his goodwill already dissipating. "I know Thaladred. I trust him." What was Illidan implying? That Thaladred was Kael's enemy? He did not want to believe it… and yet, it was true that, in the moment before they were transported, he could not tell if he had seen Thaladred being menaced by a demon—or turning into one. "Tell Lady Vashj I appreciate the offer, but it would be best if my people search for Thaladred."

"Then allow me to expedite your search," Illidan said. He held out his free hand and cast a portal.

"Tell them I am here," Kael told Selin, "that I wish to meet with my advisors when I return, and that I will want to see Thaladred as soon as possible." He touched the side of his neck; the bleeding had stopped. "No need to give unnecessary details."

With a nod, Selin entered the portal.

"Now that your underling is gone," Illidan said, "tell me of your meeting with Kil'jaeden. What did he command of you? You owe me that, at least."

Kael though it ridiculous that someone who had just tried to kill him should talk to him of debts owed, and had little faith that telling Illidan the truth would reassure him, but he was too tired to think of a clever lie. "There is technology in the fortress that neither my people nor the K'areshi understand. Kil'jaeden offered to send engineers to help us."

"Why he would take interest in such a trivial matter…?" Illidan's voice trailed off. "And in return? What did he ask of you?"

"He said there would be a task. He didn't say what it was."

"Surely you didn't agree to such a nebulous arrangement?"

"Of course not. I'm not a fool."

"Perhaps offering aid to you is a message meant for me," Illidan said, "a way of letting me know that I am no longer of any use to him." He took his hand away from his stab wound at last—it was still bleeding sluggishly—to allow Delrissa to tend to it. "Are you certain you weren't given any hints or details? Did he show you a vision, perhaps, of an object or a particular outcome? He is able to speak directly to our minds, without words."

"We spoke briefly about power. He said he could offer my people far more than you could."

"Oh, he can," Illidan said, with a chuckle that made Kael's skin crawl. "But you would not want to pay his price." Illidan leaned in close. "He demonstrated his power to you, didn't he? Your aura is stained with cinders and ash."

Bile rose in Kael's throat at the memory.

"And then," Illidan said, "overwhelmed by the display of his might, you fell senseless into a dreamless sleep."

Kael frowned. "Well, no, but—"

Illidan seized on this. "Tell me what you saw, lest in your ignorance you mistake an imperative from Kil'jaeden for a mere dream!"

They were interrupted by a clatter of running feet. Akama appeared in the hallway, followed by Freywinn. "A visitor, Lord Illidan," Akama said, and then hurried off.

Freywinn rushed toward Kael. "My lord! I came as soon as Selin told us where you were. We had no idea you were missing! We thought you were still resting after… Kirin Var."

"I assume Selin conveyed my concerns?" Kael asked. "I don't want Thaladred harmed—in case he's innocent."

Freywinn looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded. "Of course. You don't know about Thaladred, because you've been here." He hesitated. "Thaladred has already come to harm, my lord. We found him early today in the Mechanar, hidden behind a materials storage area. At first we thought he was simply asleep, but we couldn't wake him. He had bruises on his face and arms, but the healers said that that he had also been drugged or poisoned."

Kael didn't know what to make of this unexpected information. Did it prove Thaladred innocent? Or could it be a ruse?

"I've been working with the healers to create antidotes for the most common soporifics," Freywinn said, "but without knowing what he has been given, we've been hesitant to administer anything that might cause an adverse reaction. By the time Selin arrived, we had spent hours searching for clues, and we now assume that whoever abducted you first attacked Thaladred to keep him from sounding an alarm. But don't worry, my lord: we'll find whoever did this and punish them."

Illidan laughed.

"The idea of justice amuses you?" Freywinn asked coldly.

"No," Illidan said, "the idea of mayflies like you attempting to mete out punishment. To anyone."

Freywinn lifted his chin. "Don't underestimate us."

Kael was wondering if Illidan brought out the ire in everyone he met when they were interrupted once again by Akama, announcing the arrival of Sarannis—and Thaladred.

Sarannis was exceptionally terse. "Selin said you wished to see Thaladred," she said. "He was awake, so I brought him."

"The antidote worked? I must remember to update my notes!" Freywinn exclaimed.

"So this is Thaladred." Illidan tilted his head and leaned toward Thaladred, as if studying him with his sightless eyes. "I know this one. I recognize his hue."

"We have met before," Thaladred said. "I was among the first of my people to learn your demon-siphoning technique. I have also accompanied Prince Kael'thas on several of his visits to you."

"Ah, a royal guard dog," Illidan said. "Sees all, hears all; barks loudly, does nothing."

"Attempt to harm the prince," Thaladred said, "and I will show you how wrong you are." There was an unexpected intensity in his eyes, and when Sarannis shifted subtly into a defensive stance, the air in the hallway crackled with tension.

As much as Kael would have liked to see Illidan taken down a notch, a hallway brawl was certainly not the way to do it. Then too, the dark, oppressive air in Illidan's temple was making him feel more and more ill: best to take their leave. He could always come back later, alone, when he was fully rested, and gather whatever useful information Illidan might have about Kil'jaeden or the dream; only then could he decide whether to say no, or to present the offer to his advisors for discussion.

"I can see that you are eager to go," Illidan said, "though to disregard my advice may put you in peril, young one. I have had far more dealings with Kil'jaeden—"

"Kil'jaeden?" Freywinn cried in shock, while Sarannis looked dismayed, and Thaladred looked grim.

Kael wished that that they hadn't come for him, that they hadn't heard any of it, but it was too late now, and he knew it was best to tell them the simple truth before Illidan presented some fanciful interpretation. "He offered to assist us with the mana cube technology. It's unclear what he wants in return."

"Did you accept?" Thaladred asked at the same time that Freywinn said, "Surely you didn't accept!"

"I did not give him an answer," Kael said. "Lord Illidan feels that a dream I had might be relevant." He turned to Illidan. "I can recall only a single, vivid image. A huge crystal at the center of a dome of golden light. It shattered, and I felt… " He searched for the right words. "Disbelief and rage. So strong I felt physical pain, even though I knew I was asleep."

"Still you doubt me," Illidan said, "and claim it was of no importance?"

"The emotions and sensations in the dream prove nothing," Kael said. "I have had such vivid dreams before. But suppose you are right; suppose that crystal is what Kil'jaeden would want as payment. Even if I were to agree to find it, I have no idea what it is, let alone where to begin searching for it."

Illidan looked off into the distance. "I wonder…"

Kael waited. In the silence, a burst of laughter came from the den, and Freywinn moved down the hallway to see the source. The disappointment and disgust on his face mirrored Kael's own reaction, including a look of utter disappointment at Illidan.

"It is fortunate that you have my knowledge to draw upon," Illidan said at last, in a tone that indicated grand pronouncements were coming. "Although Kil'jaeden commands the armies of the Legion for his master Sargeras, he is no obedient lackey. He pursues, has always pursued, his own concerns. Like most demons he is ambitious, vindictive, and cunning, but unlike most he is also endlessly patient. He will wait a hundred years, even a thousand, to see his plans unfold. You said the sight of the crystal engendered a feeling of disbelief and rage in you? Such intense emotions are rarely wasted on trivial matters. If the crystal you saw had such deep personal significance for him, then most likely it is the Ata'mal. I do not envy you the task for which you have been chosen."

"As I have said, I did not give him an answer."

Illidan grimaced—or was it a smile? "For your sake, young one, I hope that is Kil'jaeden's understanding as well."

"Ata'mal? What is this Ata'mal?" Thaladred asked.

"A sacred artifact of such immense potency that even the broken pieces are likely to be quite useful," Illidan said. "To the few who know how to make use of them, of course."

"An object of power," Thaladred said. "How typical that a demon would seek it."

Illidan bristled. "Don't be so quick to assume you understand your prince's dire situation, elf. Kil'jaeden has pursued the thieves who took the Ata'mal from him for more than twenty thousand years. By now, the power means nothing to him; only the possession."

.

… 2 …

"We probably could make it work, if we're careful."

The first thing he had done after returning to his rooms had been to tear the gray sackcloth tunic to shreds and incinerate it. Then he had bathed—scrubbing until his skin was nearly raw—put on a high-collared robe, and called for Thaladred.

"Are my advisors here?"

"Telonicus, Pathaleon, Sarannis, and Freywinn are," Thaladred said. "Capernian and Sanguinar have been contacted in Silvermoon."

"Thank you," Kael said. "Let me know when they arrive."

Thaladred gave a small bow and started to walk away, but just before he reached the door he turned and said, "If you don't mind, my lord, I'm curious as to how Illidan came by that chest wound."

"I materialized a dagger and stabbed him," Kael said. Despite himself, he smiled.

Thaladred looked surprised. "Conjuring is not your area of magical expertise."

"No, it is not," Kael said. "Being attacked is very motivating."

"A useful skill," Thaladred said, "in the event that, ah, you were to be in danger when neither myself nor Commander Sarannis was present."

"My current magical skills are more than adequate for that." Conjuring the dagger had taken more energy than Kael expected: it had, in fact, taken nearly all the energy he had drawn from the fel-infused verdant sphere. He raised an eyebrow and asked lightly, "Are you tired of protecting me, Thaladred?"

"No, my lord." He looked utterly serious.

"And now I have a question," Kael said. "What is your memory of what happened yesterday?"

Thaladred looked blank for a moment, then shook his head. "I was in the fortress command room. Sirona reported in and asked for reinforcements. I told Sanguinar to mobilize the blood knights to join her at the crash site," he said, "and then… Sarannis was shaking me, telling me to wake up because you wanted to see me."

"I see."

Thaladred held out his arms; any bruises remaining were covered by his armor. "What happened to me while I was asleep, my lord? The healers said that I was beaten and drugged. Sarannis said I was found in the Mechanar, but I don't remember going there."

"It's a mystery," Kael said. "But we'll untangle it."

.

Sanguinar and Capernian arrived within the hour. Capernian brought him a letter from Rommath. Kael was amused to see that it was sealed with a glowing red version of the privacy glyph Telestra had once used.

The letter was brief. _I am contacting you at the behest of your brother's widow,_ Rommath wrote. _Seyla claims to have information of great import that can be discussed only with you. I told her I am your representative in Silvermoon, but she refused to talk to me. I then assured her I would pass along her request, as I assume that whatever she is so distressed about is highly personal. R—._

_P.S. Take care with her. It's rumored that she sleeps in the ruins of the palace._

"Thank you," he told Capernian.

As the advisors began to take their seats, Thaladred turned to go, but Kael motioned him to stay. He was not yet certain whether he should be suspicious, but clearly the best course of action was to act as if he trusted Thaladred, while secretly retaining his doubts and remaining observant. Sooner or later, innocent or guilty, the truth would be revealed. It was the advice that Magna Telestra had given him on his first day in Dalaran, although he hadn't known then what a consummate expert in deception she would turn out to be.

Thaladred nodded, then stood at attention near the door.

"Yesterday," Kael began, "not long after we finished communicating with Sirona about the stolen ship, I was transported unexpectedly to a meeting with Kil'jaeden. He offered to assist us with the mana cube technology. Illidan thinks that we are to locate one or more pieces of a shattered crystal called the Ata'mal as payment."

They all spoke at once.

"Did you accept?" Pathaleon asked at the same time that Freywinn said, "He didn't accept!"

"Shattered crystal? That's vague."

"Distressingly vague."

"We're trusting Illidan again?"

"Are we seriously going to trust a demon to keep his word?"

Once they had calmed down—and the expressions of shock had faded a bit—Kael held up his hand for silence. "I was going to take sole responsibility for deciding whether or not to accept this offer, but I have found myself torn." He paused, feeling some shame at what he was about to admit. "Kil'jaeden is utterly terrifying," he said. "There is a part of me that is urging me to accept his offer simply because I am fearful of what would happen if I said no."

He certainly had their attention now.

"But we cannot let our decisions be driven by fear. Yes, there are risks, grave risks, but the potential benefit to our people is… nearly immeasurable." Uneasily aware that he was about to echo Kil'jaeden's words, he said, "The mana cube technology has the potential to restore us to what we were before the Sunwell was corrupted and destroyed."

"That is true," Telonicus said. "But it requires that we find this Ata'mal crystal. If we can't…"

"We don't have to do this," Capernian said. "Let's keep working on the mana cubes. The arcanists tell me that they feel close to a breakthrough—and even if they aren't, didn't Illidan say he had a source of power for us?"

"If he does, he either cannot or will not hand it over," Kael said. Would it serve any purpose to tell them that Illidan attacked him? No, better to see if the news spread on its own; it would show where Selin's loyalty lay if he kept quiet about what he had seen. "It appears that we must look elsewhere." With the exception of Pathaleon, they all looked doubtful. "Let's put aside discussion of this offer until we all have had time to think on it individually. What other news? Any activity at Kirin Var?"

"No," Sarannis said. "None at all, not even on the outlying farms."

"That bothers you?" Pathaleon asked.

"I would have expected some, yes. Livestock to be fed, fields to be tended."

"Maybe they're all still hiding with Naberius in the church basement?"

Capernian then reported that the Azeroth side of the portal to Outland, which had been sealed nearly twenty years before, had been re-activated.

"That would explain the reports from Hellfire Peninsula," Sarannis said. "The Alliance Expedition outpost has taken in a number of visitors, who are attacking the fel orcs in the area."

"Could Vargoth have gotten a message out after all?"

"It's possible," Capernian said. "If we can communicate with Silvermoon, it's possible that he found some way around Ar'kelos' suppression field."

"Our scouts will keep a watch on the area," Sarannis said, "in case they start moving against us."

Kael nodded. "Good. What have we heard from Sirona?"

"We've sent her enough blood knights that she's been able to establish outposts near key areas of the wreckage," Sanguinar said, then glanced at Sarannis. "My apologies, Commander. I spoke out of turn."

"No need to apologize," Sarannis said. "The Order of Blood Knights have performed beyond all expectations. Most impressive." She paused before continuing. "However, despite the invaluable assistance of the Order, recovery of the fourth ship isn't going as smoothly as we'd hoped. We are fighting not only the passengers and crew of the crashed ship—a surprising number of whom apparently survived—but also Alliance mercenaries trying to claim the technology for themselves. And our forces could have handled those nuisances easily enough, had the environment not become so hazardous." She looked at Telonicus. "Do you want to explain what is happening there, or should I?"

"I will." Telonicus, who looked exhausted, rubbed his face with one hand. "The fourth ship was damaged even before it crashed in Kalimdor," he said. "According to Sirona it was dropping large red crystals, which might have been a side effect of the fractures."

"Sounds almost as if the ship was bleeding," Capernian said.

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Telonicus said. He seemed to lose his train of thought for a moment. "Or it might have been deliberate. Jettisoning the crystals to get rid of dangerous radiation from a ruptured engine, something like that. I won't know until we get the ship back and I can take it apart."

"Whatever caused the red crystals to fall from the ship," Freywinn said, "they're extremely toxic. They've polluted the water supply and altered the wildlife and environment everywhere they've fallen in Kalimdor."

"Fortunately for us," Pathaleon said, "the ship passed over Hellfire Peninsula before careening toward Azeroth. The few crystals it dropped there are having similarly corrupting effects. Freywinn and I will be taking a team to study them." He made a sour face. "Sylvanas is apparently sending a gaggle of Royal Apothecary Society chemists to assist us. Such a joyful collaboration that will be."

"Not a helpful attitude," Freywinn chided. "They want to help us find a way to counteract the effects of the crystals. I welcome their thoughts; they have a unique perspective on decay and mutation."

"You can be their primary contact, then," Pathaleon said. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were here to study the corruption so that they can reproduce and bottle it as a refreshing beverage in Undercity."

"Keep me informed of your findings," Kael said. "The sooner we can find a counter to the red crystals, the sooner Sirona can get that ship to Silvermoon. Anything else?"

There was some uneasy shuffling before Capernian said, "Well, since I see that no one else is going to bring it up… Voren'thal wants to join this council."

"As a poet?" Kael said. "I'm not sure we need to fill that position." Why was he this exhausted if he'd spent more than a day recovering at Black Temple?

Unexpectedly, it was Sarannis who spoke up in Voren'thal's defense. "He'd be more of a morale officer," she said. "He's already been doing that with the troops he's been training. He's a tough instructor, but many respond to that. He reminds more than a few of your—of their fathers, so they look up to him. Some even meet with him to discuss spiritual matters."

"Who?" Pathaleon asked.

"Dranarus, Argaron, Larissa Sunstrike." After the slightest beat she added, "Thelis. Me."

"So the poet has become a warrior-priest?" Kael didn't understand. Sarannis had always been so steady, so practical, so… martial, he hadn't thought of her as the type to have a spiritual crisis that would need tending. "Extend a formal invitation to him," he said.

"Add clairvoyant to the list of his attributes," Telonicus said with a half-smile. "I saw him waiting outside."

.

Voren'thal, who today was dressed in his formal robes rather than the sparring leathers he wore when on the training field, thanked them as he took a seat. "Shall I give my report?" he asked.

"Please."

"The massacre at Kirin Var has deeply affected many of our people," he began.

"We all regret the deaths at Kirin Var, but it was hardly a massacre."

"No? What then would you call a sudden unprovoked attack on civilians?"

Everyone present—and Kael more than most—had gone through private self-castigation and 'if only' agonizing about the events of Kirin Var, but for Voren'thal to criticize him thus, not five minutes after being invited? It was unacceptable. "You were part of the planning for that mission, Master Voren'thal," he said. "You know what our intentions were: to put the residents to sleep long enough to search for weapons and Kirin Tor communication devices. If you were so opposed to that plan, why did you not speak up at the time?"

"I regret that I did not do so," Voren'thal said. "It would have saved many lives, if only I had had the courage to stop you."

"Is that why you asked to join the us?" Pathaleon asked. "So that you could berate Prince Kael'thas and the rest of us?"

"I do not set myself apart," Voren'thal said. "I am as much to blame as for those deaths as any of us."

"Nothing we can do will bring them back," Capernian said.

"No, but we can stop speaking of it as if it was a regrettable and unforeseen accident," Voren'thal replied. "We did not spill a pitcher of water or break a vase; we caused deaths, in a violent and deliberate act. What service do we do our people by covering ugliness with neutral words?" He looked around at each of them—most had stony or carefully emotionless expressions—and asked, "Do you not wish me to be honest?"

"We do, Master Voren'thal," Kael said, "and your directness is appreciated. As for Kirin Var… in hindsight, of course we wouldn't have gone ahead if we'd known what was going to happen there. But none of us can see the future… at least not clearly enough to always take the best path." He waited a moment, expecting Voren'thal to claim that he, himself, could see the future, but the elder made no pronouncement. "The actions of the past may be regrettable, but let us move forward. Let us do what can we do for our people today," he continued, intending this to be a lead-in to the discussion of Kil'jaeden's offer, but Voren'thal had more to say.

"What our people need is a rallying point, a symbol of hope," Voren'thal insisted, tapping his finger on the table for emphasis."Something to inspire them. Something to lift them out of their desolation."

"Something other than the inspiration some are pursuing at Black Temple?" Freywinn said. "Or have you not heard about the thistle den that Illidan has set up there?"

Voren'thal gave a small shrug. "I was told about it, yes. I do not approve, but I can understand. Sadness can be far more destructive than hedonism. Some choose to dull their pain rather than search for new meaning and purpose."

"How do we do that?" Capernian asked, sounding genuinely interested in hearing Voren'thal's answer. "Give them new meaning and purpose?"

"It cannot be given," Voren'thal said. "Only found."

Kael saw Pathaleon close his eyes and give a tiny shake of the head.

"You asked why I requested to join you, " Voren'thal said. "It was so that I might participate in discussing Kil'jaeden's offer."

"You're very well informed." Kael took note of Freywinn's guilty look. "However, we have decided to delay our discussion of the matter for a few days."

"I am certain you will be focused on practical considerations. Material gain," Voren'thal said. "I challenge you to consider the intangible as well, how adversely allying with demons would affect our people."

"It would be a temporary association to exchange goods and services, not an alliance," Pathaleon said. "And the arcane engineering consultants aren't likely to be demons—and even if they are, they wouldn't stay long, and most of our people wouldn't have contact with them."

"Dressing it in fancy words," Voren'thal said, "does not change the truth."

"It might not be so bad," Sanguinar said. "We thought membership in the Horde was a mistake, but the orcs and trolls—"

"It is not the same," Voren'thal said firmly. "For all the injustices that we have suffered in the past at their hands, those races as a whole are not evil. But demons are. They are evil by their very nature. To enter into an alliance with them... we simply cannot do it. It would destroy us."

"I am not sure I agree," Kael said. "Of course there are dangers. Surely we are intelligent enough to avoid them?"

"It is not a matter of intellect," Voren'thal said, and stood. "I have presented my report. At such time as you call for a vote, I will be voting against. Now, if you have further need of me, I will return to overseeing the new recruits at the training grounds."

Kael stood as well, and bowed. "I do appreciate your honesty, Master Voren'thal, and hope you will join us again soon."

Voren'thal nodded curtly to Sarannis and Sanguinar, then swept out.

Kael, noting the uneasy silence left behind, said, "Master Voren'thal raised a concern it seems some of you share. I know I said that we should put off making a decision, but… should we just reject it out of hand? Now?"

Pathaleon looked surprised; the others were studying their hands or the surface of the table.

"To be blunt," Freywinn said, "I doubt we even have the luxury of saying no. A demon lord knows enough about us to make this offer. Obviously he expects us to say yes."

"So you too would accept out of fear?" Kael said.

Pathaleon folded his arms. "Can we, just for a moment, subtract the demonic from the equation? Look at this objectively, the way you'd evaluate any business opportunity. Is learning how to produce and use the mana cubes of value to us? Is it a clear benefit to our people?"

"Not if it requires us to do favors for demons."

"Again, set that aspect aside."

"But we can't," Freywinn said to him. "It's integral to the discussion. If any other race—even an Alliance race, the gnomes for example—offered to help us, we wouldn't be asking these questions or having these doubts. We'd simply find a way to make it work, because we'd be reasonably sure they'd keep their word and that both sides would receive mutual benefit. Right, Telonicus?"

Telonicus, who had been slumped in his chair staring off into space, said slowly, "How did he know?"

"Who? Voren'thal?"

"Kil'jaeden." Telonicus sat up straight. "How did he know about the mana cubes? How did he know that our research has been unsuccessful?" He looked at Kael.

Kael was taken aback. Now that Telonicus had called it out, it was… troublesome. He glanced at Thaladred, still standing guard near the door, and recalled Illidan's jibe: 'Sees all, hears all, says nothing, does nothing.' The idea that Thaladred was somehow spying for Kil'jaeden was absurd.

Wasn't it?

"He probably got information from Illidan," Sarannis said, and Kael relaxed: it was a much more reasonable explanation.

"Who picked it up from any of the two hundred or so of our people that he's… taken under his wing," Freywinn said.

"We'll figure out how Kil'jaeden learned so much about us later," Kael said, rubbing his forehead as a wave of nausea swept over him. "As for your question, Pathaleon… of course we want the cube technology. What is your point?"

"Just checking points of agreement," Pathaleon said. "Cubes are valuable to us, almost essential. Agreed?" He looked around the others for confirmation.

Everyone nodded.

"So the second question is: is the commodity worth what's being asked? Any chance we can negotiate down, or is the price fixed?"

"How many more questions are there?" Sarannis asked.

Pathaleon gave her an exasperated look. "Third: Assuming that the price is appropriate, are funds available for purchase?"

"How is that different from the second question?"

"Acknowledging that something is worth the price being asked," Capernian said, "is different than being able to afford it."

"Exactly," Pathaleon said.

"That's the key question, then," Telonicus said. "It doesn't matter how badly we need or want the mana cube technology; until we have the crystal in hand, we should not agree to buy."

Kael saw Sarannis and Freywinn exchange meaningful looks. They, along with Thaladred, had been present at Black Temple when Illidan had claimed that the crystal had been missing for twenty thousand years. If that was true, how could they hope to find it?

"If I might suggest?"

Everyone turned to look at Thaladred, who was still standing by the door.

"Delay giving a firm answer until we can gather more information about the Ata'mal," he said, smiling faintly. "A few days would be barely a flicker to a being tens of thousands of years old."

"And how would we gather this information?" Sanguinar, with his love of protocol and procedure, was clearly offended that a mere bodyguard had spoken.

"The K'areshi Consortium. They are a race of scavengers and traders, with a large communication network. Xevozz claims they trade with a thousand worlds."

"You want to hire them to track down the crystal for us?" Pathaleon shrugged. "Bad idea. They certainly won't do it for free, and once they understand how important it is to us, who knows what they will demand for it?"

"Assuming they don't cut us out entirely and take the crystal straight to Kil'jaeden," Sarannis said, looking grim.

"No, they would consider dealing directly with a demon too high-risk," Telonicus said. "I think, if we offer them the secrets of the mana cube technology as they're being unlocked…" He was nodding his head slowly. "Invite them to work alongside us and the 'arcane consultants' once the crystal is retrieved."

"Ah, I see. An incentive." Pathaleon was clearly miffed that he hadn't thought of it.

"I should have thought to bring them in sooner," Telonicus said. "K'areshi technology is built around energy containment."

"Do you want to contact Xevozz, or should I?" Sarannis asked Telonicus.

"I will," Telonicus said. "I have some questions I'm been meaning to ask him anyhow."

"It seems a reasonable course of action," Kael said. "Proceed with it."

.

… 3 …

Kael wished he could return to his chambers at Firewing Point and rest, but the matter of Seyla needed attention first. He started casting a private portal to the royal suite.

Thaladred approached. "My lord?" he asked. "Where are you going?"

"I have a family matter to attend to," Kael said.

"I will accompany you."

"No need," Kael said. "I hardly need protection from my sister-in-law." He stepped through the portal.

The royal chambers had been cleared of rubble since he'd been here last, the night of his clandestine meeting with Rommath in the wake of the disastrous Northrend campaign. Tae'thelan's historical preservation crew, no doubt. The harsh sunlight that now flooded though missing doors and windows made the rooms seem all the emptier.

Finding no sign that Seyla was living there—all that remained of Eldin's bed was a broken frame with no mattress—Kael sent a sigil to her, then cast a second private portal to the Grand Magister's Sanctum on Quel'Danas.

Arthas's rampage had not touched the elegant mansion on the hill; the white stone walls and towers decorated with gold and scarlet lifted Kael's spirits now as much as they had when he was a boy. Inside, all was intact as well: the delicate lamps, the divans and chairs upholstered in deep blue velvet, the filigree on the ivory columns. He had spent hours as a child in this assembly hall, watching and listening as magisters debated fine points of magical theory.

While he waited for Seyla, he decided to try to replicate the weapon he had conjured against Illidan. He could conjure water, of course, and light-sparks, but those were simple things, uniform in composition and amorphous in form. Far easier than creating something complex and persistent. He drained the remainder of the first crystal and, after only a slight hesitation, began to draw upon the second. Overwhelming, the amount of power it contained: if Illidan truly had drained them to a "safe" level, what incredible power they must have held before that! Kael wondered if it was best to drain each completely, so that they could be refilled with arcane energy instead of fel.

When he began to feel his skin prickle, he released the sphere and visualized the dagger: red hilt, red pommel, wide silver blade etched with scarlet lines… Nothing. He tried once again, closing his eyes, holding out his hand, imagining the weight of the hilt across his palm… nothing.

Surely he didn't need more power? What had he been feeling when Illidan had him by the throat? Fear, and anger. Was strong emotion the key? Instead of the scarlet dagger, he tried to recall the dagger he had repaired and transmuted as a gift for Jaina so long ago—but that was no good either. The gut-ripping pain he had felt after her rejection of the gift—and, by extension, her rejection of him—had been blurred and eroded by all the losses he had endured since. It wasn't possible for him to feel so strongly about being spurned in love now that he'd experienced true loss.

He caught the second sphere in his hand and drew on it until he started to feel pain, but still did not let go. He thought of his father, his mother, his brother; of the exemplars at the Sanctuary, and of Thalorien; of Vanthryn and Keleseth and Lana'thel…

Kael felt something surge from the center of his chest. He opened his eyes to see a sword hovering in the air, just out of reach. As if suspended by a thread, it spun slowly in the air, flashing as its surfaces caught the lamplight. A familiar sword: elven-made, rune-inscribed and curved and deadly.

"Quel'Delar."

Kael turned to see who had spoken. It was Thaladred.

"How did you follow me?" Kael asked. "Private portals cannot be used by anyone but the caster."

"When I saw you weren't in the palace, I knew you would be here," Thaladred said, folding his arms and glancing around. "Lana'thel told me how important this place was to you."

Kael was shocked. It was true that he had talked to Lana'thel about his childhood, but he had felt those conversations to be intimate confidences. To hear she'd shared them with Thaladred…

"She and I were very close for a while," Thaladred said.

"You were injured protecting her from Garithos' soldiers," Kael said, trying to quell his feeling of jealousy. "It is not surprising that the two of you formed a bond."

"A bond? Yes, a bond. I was truly reluctant to leave; her mind was so vibrant. Full of thoughts of you. Admiring thoughts, heroic thoughts." He paused for emphasis. "Lustful thoughts."

"Leave her mind?" Kael said, puzzled until the world shifted and fell into a new perspective. "Even though you wear his form, you're not Thaladred."

"Don't mistake me for a lowly shapeshifter, like Sironas." He lifted his chin. "I am Tichondrius, The Darkener. Lord of the Nathrezim."

"What have you done with Thaladred?" Kael asked. Though the sword was behind him, it was within reach. He had enough energy to shield himself, though he had never tested it against a dreadlord's attack…

Tichondrius made an abrupt motion, causing the conjured Quel'Delar to fly to him. "Now, Prince Kael'thas, don't be foolish," he said. "Your Thaladred is still here. Sleeping." He teased the edge of the blade across the palm of Thaladred's hand, drawing blood. "Although he is vulnerable, and mortal, as I am not. If his body should die, I will take another. Perhaps even yours."

Kael's heart was pounding. "It was you who lured me to the Mechanar." The sight of the demon holding the conjured Quel'Delar was sickening, but at least the sword would be de-conjured once they passed back through the portal to Outland.

"Yes. And what fun I had!" Tichondrius laughed, a horrifying sound. "The doctors poured so many of Freywinn's nasty concoctions down our throat, I thought poor Thaladred would choke."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Illidan struck me down once, long ago, so I was eager to spy on him in Dalaran. I hoped my report of his failure would allow me to participate in his punishment… but then, fortunately for you, my master has been intrigued by the possibilities of the sin'dorei for some time."

"Your master?" Kael asked, though he knew the answer.

"Do not look so fearful," Tichondrius said. "He is pleased with your progress and approach, and has already sent several dozen of the finest mo'arg engineers to your fortress."

"I never agreed to his terms!" Kael said.

"There will be other tasks to perform, should you fail to find the crystal." Tichondrius pressed the tip of the sword up under Thaladred's chin. "A word of warning, Prince Kael'thas. It would not be wise to reveal my presence to your followers. They will attempt to oust me from this body, and if my ability to be the master's eyes and ears is taken away, he will not be pleased." He laughed again. "Although, it would be amusing to set your advisors against each other. Such a frenzy of suspicion and paranoia there would be as they slit each other's throats in pursuit of me!"

Kael was fighting against a rising sense of panic when he heard Seyla. "Kael'thas?"

Tichondrius lowered the sword, giving Kael a warning look, and hid his bleeding hand behind his back.

"I'm here," Kael said weakly.

"Oh, I… I thought you'd be alone." Her long dark hair was carelessly arranged, making her pale face look even more haggard than when she had been tending to the dying Eldin.

"This is my bodyguard," Kael said. He didn't think that Tichondrius would possess her—Thaladred certainly was an ideal host from which to observe Kael—but the demon might harm her. For her own safety, Kael had to get her to go. "Rommath said you wanted to speak to me. What's so important that you had to drag me all the way here?"

She looked surprised and hurt by his response. Good. "I… there's something I think you ought to know about, and I wanted to make sure that no one else was around." She glanced at Thaladred.

"Get on with it," Kael said, as coldly as he was able. "I have important work to do."

Seyla's cheeks were blazing. Angry, but unfortunately not angry enough to leave. "You sent that crystal being to Silvermoon, and it's being tortured to death!"

The phrase "crystal being" made Tichondrius perk up—or perhaps it was the mention of torture.

"Crystal being?" Kael was puzzled. "You don't mean the yellow defense crystal we found in the fortress?"

"It's alive," Seyla said. "It screams. Day and night." She put her hands over her ears and said miserably, "Even here, I can hear it."

"Really?" Tichondrius asked. His eyes glittered with glee. "Are you the only one?"

Seyla took a deep breath. "No. Every priest I know can hear it as well." She pleaded with Kael. "They're using it for some sort of Blood Knight ritual. Please, you have to stop it. If you don't, it'll die."

"A ritual?" He had intended the crystal to be a source of power for those opposed to draining animals or demons; had Rommath and Astalor had put it to a different use? Why would they not have told him? "I'll look into it."

"Thank you." She darted forward and pecked him on the cheek.

"Go away," he told her, "somewhere you can't hear it anymore."

She shook her head. "There isn't a place far enough away for that."

.

… 4 …

To Kael's relief, Tichondrius allowed Seyla to leave without incident.

"Remember what I said," Tichondrius warned as Kael opened a portal back to the fortress.

"I won't forget."

They returned to find the fortress in an uproar. When Telonicus caught sight of them, he stormed up to Kael. "They're here. Kil'jaeden's engineers. Arrived at the Mechanar an hour ago. I thought we were going to decide as a group whether to accept the offer?"

Kael was stunned. "So soon… " Thaladred was watching him intently, almost gloating; Kael's insides turned to ice. "It's probably a good faith gesture," he said to Telonicus, knowing what a weak explanation it was. "Like an advance payment."

"I guess Freywinn was right," Telonicus said, genuinely angry. "Saying 'no' was never an option." He turned away. "We've sent for Selin. Maybe he'll know how to communicate with them."

Kael—shadowed by Thaladred, of course—went to greet the consultants.

Pathaleon met them just outside the Mechanar entrance, looking resentful every time an elf hurried past with a traveling case.

"What's going on here?" Kael asked. "Who are these people? Where are they going?"

"Leaving." Pathaleon was furious. "Some of our arcane researchers are too frightened to work with the consultants."

Kael shook his head. "That's—they've seen demons before!"

"Not like these," Pathaleon said, and pointed. "I believe that is is one of their leaders."

The creature that Pathaleon pointed to was a hybrid of demon and machine, even more grotesque than the stitched abominations of the Scourge. Metal rods held together an incision that sliced up its fel-veined chest and around its neck; one hand had been replaced with a large, three-pronged grasping claw, the other with a massive fel-green hammer. A power pack was strapped to its back, and a blinking red loupe had replaced one of its eyes. When it saw Kael it lumbered over to him and, astonishingly, saluted him with its clawed hand.

Thankfully, Selin and Delrissa arrived shortly after. The mechanical demon made sounds that Kael assumed were a language—the words sounded like the buzzing of sawblades—which Delrissa translated into what sounded like a slurry of Eredun, Thalassian, and Common for Selin.

"This one is the foreman," Selin said. "He wishes to begin work immediately."

"How is… how can he work without hands?" Kael asked.

After some back and forth, Selin had an answer."Gan'arg hands. Mo'arg commands."

"What does that mean?"

"The little ones are gan'arg," Selin explained, pointing to scurrying robed figures about the size of gnomes or goblins. "I think they build what the mo'arg, the big ones, design." He listened as Delrissa said something lengthy in Eredun, then added, "Correction. Mo'arg and gan'arg both design. Mo'arg prefer theory to practice. Gan'arg enjoy making things that work. And blowing things up."

Kael shook his head. "It's not easy to believe that they can help us."

"Well," Pathaleon said, "we'll try them for a week, and if we don't like them, maybe we can send them back? By then we should have finished negotiations with the Consortium for the Ata'mal."

.

"Sanguinar? A moment?"

He hurried over. "My lord?" The weapon Sanguinar carried was a massive war-hammer whose head had been crafted from one of Pathaleon's red crystals.

He noticed Kael's appraisal. "I call it the Blood Hammer," he said.

"Indeed? It is most impressive," Kael said. "As are the Blood Knights as a whole. For some time now, I have felt that I was remiss in not learning more about your order. Would you enlighten me? How were you founded? What are your guiding principles?"

Thaladred excused himself, and Sanguinar, preening at having Kael all to himself, began to explain how Astalor and Rommath had devised a way for former members of the Church of the Light to become, as he put it, "not mere servants of the Light, but masters of it." Sanguinar said that he was trained to draw power through the crystal.

"Through it, not from it?" Kael said. Had Seyla been mistaken in her claim that the crystal was alive? "Interesting. Go on."

As Sanguinar continued, Kael found his attention wandering. It ate at him, that Rommath and Astalor had not told him of the use they had devised for the crystal. He could not help but compare their deception to the way that Telestra had withheld information about the true nature of the K'areshi device she had asked Kael to use on the Kirin Tor settlement. Did Astalor and Rommath also have a secret agenda, one that they knew he would not approve? If so, what were they planning?

.

… 5 …

The gathering of advisors that Kael convened a week later was very different than the previous meeting had been.

Voren'thal had refused to come to the fortress, claiming he was opposed to the presence of demons in the Mechanar. Kael, initially annoyed by this obstinate showboating, decided that rather than antagonize the elder by holding the meeting without him, he would switch the setting to Firewing Point. Not only did this call Voren'thal's bluff—there were no demons at Firewing Point other than the random warlock-enslaved imps—it also gave some attention to Pathaleon, who Kael suspected had been feeling a bit shunted to the side by the engineering 'invasion' of the past week.

Kael congratulated himself silently for being right as Pathaleon led him to a translocation orb that took them to a floating platform high above the Firewing Sanctum. A circle of chairs and divans-all but two occupied-surrounded a small table crowded with luncheon delicacies.

"Oh," Pathaleon said to Thaladred, "I didn't know you'd be attending. There's nowhere for you to sit!"

"I will sit in Voren'thal's char until the elder arrives," Thaladred said, seating himself in the empty chair across from Kael.

Kael shook his head at the glass of wine that Pathaleon offered him, and clenched his shaking hands at his sides. Thaladred had shadowed him constantly for the past week, standing guard outside his door at night, waiting for him in the morning. As the week went on, Kael found himself less and less able to look at him, as if he expected to see the grinning demon within. And even that Kael could have borne, but knowing that Tichondrius was reporting his every word and action to Kil'jaeden gnawed at him constantly. He lost his appetite, and found it difficult to concentrate; he could not bring himself to close his eyes at night and sleep. He alternated between temptation and revulsion regarding the fel energy stored in the third orb, forcing himself to slip out into the outlying forest and siphon from animals.

Thaladred seemed to find Kael's disintegration amusing.

"You opinion of the mo'arg certainly has changed," Kael was startled to hear Thaladred say.

"Yes, it has," Telonicus nodded, "Once you get past the terrifying body enhancements, they're absolutely brilliant. They've already suggested improvements to the arcane guardian design."

"Are they more clever than gnomes?" Capernian joked as Pathaleon's assistant refilled her glass.

"In some ways, yes," Telonicus answered earnestly. "They immediately asserted that the cubes and the ships were components of the same system—which might be why we didn't get far studying the cubes in isolation. They've helped us unlock nearly a dozen new functions and subsystems, most for energy collection and storage—it turns out I was right about the collectors. Oh, and those clear tubes we saw connecting the collectors and the small ships? They're not actually tubes, but cylindrical energy fields containing arcane plasma. There are housings for them everywhere, since the fortress as a whole is an enormous crystal battery. Send the right signals, and the fields form themselves between the housings."

Kael wasn't familiar with most of the terminology Telonicus was using, and as it was he found it difficult to concentrate on the words—but his enthusiastic expression communicated well enough.

"The pipes in the west of the fortress—they're part of it?"

"Yes. Rather than channel the energy through the small ships and then into the central underhull, we decided to try positioning a collector so that it could charge the central underhull directly. The easiest way to do that was to land the collector in the forest. It was incredible to see the fields propagate from the collector to the housing on the fortress perimeter!"

"Excellent, excellent. How long until we can start manufacturing our own mana cubes?" Pathaleon asked.

"Soon. We're making progress on the theory."

Capernian nodded. "Understanding how the energy is extracted from the air and soil is—"

"From the soil?" Freywinn frowned. "Isn't that going to affect the plant life in the area?"

Pathaleon rolled his eyes.

The sound of the argument that followed floated away; Kael found himself once again thinking about pulling energy from the third mooncrystal. Just a little, he told himself. Just enough so that he could focus… but he knew himself too well. He didn't want just a little. He wanted to drain the third crystal, to be flooded with magic, to choke on it, drown in it, be utterly subjugated by it, filled with such an excess of magic that he became magic itself.

He knew this, and he despised himself for it.

"Don't get me started on the Cenarions," Pathaleon was saying with disdain. "They've started interfering with my studies in Hellfire."

"Lady Vashj says they've also begun attacking her people in Zangar," Selin added.

"We're trying to understand the red crystals so that we can cure the land in Kalimdor," Pathaleon said. "I'd think they'd laud us!"

"Kaldorei can be so…" Freywinn bared his teeth. "So arrogant."

"I thought you were an admirer, High Arch-Botanist druid," Telonicus teased.

"I was. I am. But it's so frustrating. When I told Illidan that it was his brother who inspired me to dig deeper into study of the druidic arts, do you know how he responded? He said that my admiration was misplaced, because he could teach me far more about the druidic arts than Malfurion ever could!" Freywinn shook his head. "I've not had any time to study with the Tauren druids of the Horde yet, but they seem much more approachable. And humble."

"I want to do something about these Cenarions," Pathaleon said.

Kael forced himself to focus. "Capernian, you mentioned that the Dark Portal might be open again. Since that's how the troublemakers are getting to Outland, what progress have we made in closing it?"

"The magic it took to create a portal like that is astounding," she said, shaking her head. "But when even the Grand Magister says it's beyond his knowledge or powers, I don't see how any of the rest of us can do anything."

"And yet, someone re-opened it," Kael said wearily, "so the knowledge and power is out there. Somewhere. Find it." Inadvertently he glanced at Thaladred, who had a small, knowing smile.

"Well, I have an idea," Pathaleon said, "though it may not be a popular one. Telonicus has the notes he took on the K'areshi device that Xevozz provided for the Kirin Tor settlement. He says he understands the design well enough for us to duplicate it, if we can acquire certain parts."

"And do what with it?" Kael asked, fighting through a wave of nauseous terror. If Tichondrius had not been the one to re-open the portal, he surely knew who had.

"Disrupt the Cenarions," Pathaleon said. "Show the busybodies that we aren't going to tolerate their attacks. Get them to back off and interfere with someone else's research."

Kael closed his eyes.

"Xevozz put me in touch with a wind trader who has promised to supply whatever materials I need," Telonicus said, "in exchange for the improved design."

"Speaking of Xevozz," Pathaleon said, "have our K'areshi friends had any success tracking down the Ata'mal?"

"Ask Ambassador Solannas," Telonicus said. "He's the one talking to the various Nexus-Princes."

"Oh, he's a diplomat," Pathaleon said. "He always tells you what he thinks you want to hear."

"You don't believe it when he says that Nexus-Prince Haramad's people are already claiming to have some leads?"

"Oh, I believe it," Pathaleon said. "The Consortium didn't become the biggest K'areshi faction by failing to deliver on their promises."

"Do whatever you feel is necessary to deal with the druids," Kael said. "Now, if you will excuse me, I'm feeling rather unwell."

"Let me help you back to your rooms, my lord," Thaladred said, standing.

"No need," Kael said, pushing himself up from his chair. "I can manage." His skin felt loose, as any moment it would slide off his bones.

"You look terrible!" Freywinn said.

And then Thaladred was at his elbow. "I insist, my lord."

.

… 6 …

"Leave me alone," Kael said once they were in the hallway. He meant it as a command, but of course it came out as a pathetic plea.

"I can take you to him, if you wish," Tichondrius whispered. "No need to beg."

"I am not begging," Kael said. "Take me to my room so that I can rest."

"Rest must wait," Tichondrius said as he drew darkness over them. "He wishes to speak to you."

Kael was not taken to the roof of Illidan's temple; rather, he was on a rocky slab floating in an abyss, under a starless sky that churned chaotic green. Kil'jaeden did not appear as he had before, as a whirlwind of flame; now he was a gargantuan outline of shadow and night, looming out of the abyss.

Kael dared not move or speak.

"I have found one of the crystals I seek, on the very world you inhabit," Kil'jaeden said.

"Azeroth?" Kael asked.

"In the place Illidan calls Outland, there is a city, apparently in ruin. This is an illusion. A shard of the Ata'mal protects it, providing succor to my enemies. Take the city. Slay them all. Bring the crystal to me."

"Great One," Kael said, "My people… they will not—"

"You will find a way to convince them," Kil'jaeden said.

There was no need for him to add _or I will destroy them._

.

Voren'thal answered on the third knock; though he was in a sleeping robe, he seemed to have been waiting. He eyed Kael without saying anything for so long that Kael was certain it had been a mistake to think that the elder would help him.

It was only when Kael turned to go that Voren'thal opened the door fully.

Gratefully, Kael stumbled inside, sinking onto the nearest chair. There was a flash of light and a grunt. Kael turned to see a shimmering barrier stretched across the doorway; behind it, Thaladred snarled.

"I thought so," Voren'thal said to him. "You are not invited." He started to close the door.

"Please," Kael said, "Please let him in."

Voren'thal gave Kael another long, searching look. "If you wish," he said at last.

Thaladred took one step into the room and then stopped, as though he could go no further. He glared at Voren'thal with complete hatred. "Your time will come, old one," he said, "and I will savor the spectacle of you screaming as a demon army cracks open your bones and sucks the marrow."

"Charming," Voren'thal said. He placed a small chair in front of Kael, and then sat. "It is late," he said. "Very, very late."

"I have made a terrible mistake," Kael said. His eyes began to brim with tears, of gratitude, of exhaustion.

"Yes, you have." Voren'thal could have gloated, but he did not. He sounded calm, almost disinterested. "What did he ask you to do?"

"There is a city. If we don't attack it… " Kael could not finish. "You were right," was all he could say.

Voren'thal nodded slowly. "The people will not follow you," he said.

Kael cringed, but he accepted it as true. He bowed his head, letting his tears drip down onto his hands.

"Some of them might, however, follow me. Allow me to lead the attack."

.

… 7 …

Voren'thal had been the beginning of the end.

The area that had appeared to be a ruin had, indeed been sheltering an army surrounding a pillar of light. Kael had watched from a distance as Voren'thal, leading nearly a thousand of the brightest, most talented sin'dorei, had marched across the arched bridge—and then, to Kael's horror, had knelt, laying down their weapons in surrender. The city had swallowed them up, and no one had seen or heard from them since.

It was a devastating loss, three times the number that Kael had lost on Icecrown Glacier.

Even then, there might have been hope for his people—but then Xevozz reported that Nexus-Prince Haramad had unexpectedly canceled the contract after finding a new buyer for the crystal his people had recovered from the rogue demons in Farahlon.

Pathaleon was outraged. "Double-crossing thief!"

"Any chance that Ambassador Solannas can mend our partnership with the Consortium?" Kael asked.

"Unfortunately," Xevozz replied, "the ambassador is far less persuasive as a corpse than he was when when he was alive."

"Perhaps you could negotiate on our behalf?" Kael asked.

"Alas, I cannot. The Nexus-Prince has withdrawn his support from me as well," Xevozz said. "Apparently he now courts favor with a faction called the Kirin Tor. They are most unhappy with me for some reason, and have posted an insultingly small bounty. But no cause for concern," Xevozz had concluded. "My new faction, the Zaxxis, will be here for all your weapon and ethereal technology needs."

.

As he had in the past, Kael took inspiration from Dath'Remar. When he next met with his council—glum faces all—he said simply, "We have had many setbacks of late, hardships, But we are not powerless. We are not worthless, and so—as long as we draw breath, we shall not be hopeless. We have unlocked the secret of the mana cubes at last, and now that the deliveries to Quel'Thalas have begun, let us double our efforts—no, triple or quadruple them. What we do here is our legacy. All will remember our sacrifices for our people and our dedication to the cause of our continued survival. All who prosper in Quel'Thalas will do so thanks to us."

The collectors were moved into the forest, but their very efficiency was a curse. So hungrily did they draw the energy from the air and the earth that the land became barren and began to shatter… but still they hummed. Even when dimensions tore and horrors from the void streamed forth, the arcane streams flowed into the fortress and the Mechanar, filling cube after cube with dazzling power.

.

Freywinn paced around the meeting-table, too agitated to sit. "These horrible creatures showed up at the Botanica yesterday," he said.

"What creatures?"

"Satyrs." He shuddered. "Illidari. Nethervines. They had an ancient with them, can you believe it? An actual ancient that they'd kidnapped from the Cenarion druids. They said it was a gift from Illidan!"

"I thought you hated the Cenarions," Capernian said.

"That's Pathaleon," Freywinn said. "He's the one fighting with them for interfering with our research."

"Where is Pathaleon, anyhow?"

"He got a communication from Sharth. Some problem at Firewing Point."

Telonicus looked up from the schematic he was annotating. "What's an ancient?"

"An enormous forest elemental," Sarannis said. "The kaldorei consider them almost demigods. They use them as sentries and protectors."

"They make their gods their servants?" Telonicus asked, then shook his head. 

"I'd have thought you'd be thrilled to have such a specimen!" Capernian said.

"I would be," Freywinn replied, "but it's been too enraged to study."

"What did you do with it?" Thaladred asked. "Did you kill it?"

"Of course not!" Freywinn said. "The satyrs helped me get it into one of the conservatories, and said that they would stay and help keep it under control."

"And that's a problem?"

"I'm afraid to ask them to leave."

Pathaleon arrived shortly afterward, pale and shaking, and reported that Firewing Point was a charred ruin piled with corpses… all because he had wanted to study the red crystals in peace.

.

That was the moment that Kael began to have an inkling of what Illidan must feel. The gnawing tension of waiting for the summons, waiting for Tichondrius to appear and lead him to his punishment.

But Tichondrius did not come for him.

Kael was alone in his rooms when the spectral hand descended without warning, crushing him under an avalanche of fel magic and then withdrawing, leaving him so agonizingly empty that he prostrated himself in the darkness and begged for it to return. A second wave assaulted him after a time, vicious, shredding all thought, all resolve; when it stopped, Kil'jaeden asked scornfully, "Had enough, _magister?"_

And as he lay trembling on the ground, Kael knew he was lost. "No, Master," he whispered.

It was not until the next morning, when he woke—having fallen into an exhausted sleep at last—that he discovered the full price of his weakness, of his self-betrayal.

He had been transformed. His body was grey and stippled with sores. Hanks of his hair whispered to the ground with each movement as he crawled toward his bed, pulled himself to his feet, and stumbled to the mirror.

His face was hideous, skeletally gaunt, with lips like strips of rotting meat and bulging, filmy eyes. Where clumps of hair had fallen out his skull was left horribly bald.

He had become Wretched.

Utterly ashamed, already half-crazed with hunger, he sank down from the mirror. His desolation was so far beyond tears that all he could do was howl—raw, inarticulate, animal sounds. He tore and clawed at himself in self-loathing.

And then, suddenly, Selin was there. Kael tried to hide, but Selin caught him, calmed him, tended to him.

In the days that followed, it was Selin who kept unwanted visitors from Kael's door,  brought him precious arcane crystals to gorge upon, and suggested Kael try siphoning directly from the energy being stored in the fortress. It was Selin who helped him disguise his grotesqueness with deceits and glamours even as he assured him that his people would not think the less of him for his condition. It was Selin who comforted him when he was wracked with despair over those who had betrayed and rejected him by leaving, and who encouraged him to go out among those who had stayed to see for himself that he was still loved and respected by many.

Kael did not understand at first why Selin would take such effort over him: after all, Selin had always ingratiated himself to whoever he perceived to have the most power at any given moment, and certainly Kael had far less than Illidan at this point. Could it possibly be genuine loyalty? A repayment for the assistance Kael had given so many years ago to a fatherless lowborn boy who had simply wanted to serve as a squire to a noble knight? The thought had filled Kael with a moment of warmth and peace—until the truth of it struck him. What he had mistaken for kindness and gratitude was likely nothing more than mere practicality. Kael was simply Selin's path to Kil'jaeden.

.

After the fall of Firewing Point the collectors had been overrun with adventurers and thieves. Emboldened by each victory—and supported by their new-found allies, the traitorous Scryers and fickle K'areshi Consortium—to destroy more and more of what Kael had built, the pestilent swarm had invaded the Mechanar and the Botanica. After slaying Freywinn, Sarannis, and Pathaleon in an attempt to trample Kael's dream of New Quel'Thalas, they had harried the Sunfury while they gathered their forces for an assault on the heart of the fortress. Kael sent Selin to warn Vashj that they might come after her as well; he owed her that much, at least.

And now the enemy was here.

As the war-cry of Al'ar echoed from the Phoenix Hall, Kael stood waiting. To his left, Capernian and Sanguinar; to his right, Telonicus and Thaladred. Around them the crystal matrix of the ship hummed with power, the power that Kael's people had drawn from this strange land. It occurred to him then that, just as they had created their own ley-lines with a fusion of naaru and mo'arg technology, so had this fortress become a new Sunwell, the source of power for the sin'dorei.

Kael would not let anyone take that away. Not again. Never again.

As the enemy crept into the control room and slowly approached the dais, Kael's fel-clouded eyes could not tell if the attackers were Human or Scryer. No matter. They had slain Al'ar, and nearly all those loyal and most dear to him. He finally had anger and pain enough to summon a half-dozen weapons.

"Power," Kael told them. "My people are addicted to it."

.

.

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_~ Next chapter: Defeated ~_

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_._

_ first post 14 November 2016; revised 17 Sept 2017 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to **Bryn** for six (SIX!) rounds of beta-reading, and for suggesting that a key reveal should come much sooner than I planned, and to **Mipe** , for letting me bounce ideas about "the pact" and Voren'thal.
> 
> Reviewers, please avoid spoilers?


	19. Grand Magister's Asylum (Kael'thas), Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enraged by his defeat in Tempest Keep, Kael'thas lashes out at those he sees as responsible. He soon learns that servants of Kil'jaeden are not free to do as they please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter primarily based on various Burning Crusade quests and flavor text. All named characters are canon NPCs.
> 
> Once again, the wonderful **Bryn** was my beta-reader, editor, and—along with **Mipeltaja** —the touchstone of lore. Minor deviations from canon for story purposes are my doing.

.

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~ : |19| : ~

 _"The expendable have perished… so be it! Now I shall succeed where Sargeras could not!_  
_I will bleed this wretched world and secure my place as the true master of the Burning Legion."_

.

.

Ah, so this is why you came after me? To distract me while you attack Kil'jaeden?

Idiotic. If your forces can defeat the nathrezim torturer, the pit lord, the witches of fire and shadow, and scores of Sunblades and felbloods and demons, what threat would a wretch like me pose? Do you think I would have been banished to this out-of-the way prison—for that's what it is—if I still had even a fraction of my former powers? I am here, not to keep me safely out of harm's way, but because my writhing and howling as I starve in this cage amuses them. Why else would the Legion bring me back, over and over and over again?

Tell me this, at least: did Kil'jaeden's hated enemy take the bait? Has he been leading the assault? Did you kill the dragon Sathrovarr held captive, or did you let it rejoin the rest of  the blues circling overhead? Vultures, waiting for the battle to conclude so that they can drain what little ley energy remains from this once-shining isle.

Never mind. The victors will give me the answers I crave, and determine my fate.

.

.

"… was beautiful once," someone was saying as a circle of green eclipsed his field of vision. Darkness and silence followed.

At first, he could make no sense of it. Then it struck him: he was still in Black Temple, recovering from his encounter with Kil'jaeden.

He sank down gratefully into this realization. Of course none of what he dimly remembered— accusations, failures, betrayals, his transformation into a deformed monstrosity—had been real! A nightmare had given form to his uncertainties and vague fears, compressing events that would have taken weeks in the waking world into an hour or two of dreaming. Silly, now that he was looking at it from the other side. He was a Sunstrider, after all, Dath'Remar's heir. Weakness was a contemptible foe. Success, and the love of his people, was his birthright. How could he have doubted it, doubted himself?

Another thought sidled up to him. If the past weeks had been a dream, perhaps all the rest of it—Northrend, Illidan, Garithos, the Scourge—was part of the same fevered nightmare? If so, that would mean that his father was still alive, and the Sunwell still radiant, surrounded by forests that had never known night.

No. For all that he wanted it to be true, he knew it was not.

Sounds came to him then, not heard but appearing in the mind. Unlike Kil'jaeden's words, which cut and seared, these sounds were soothing, almost musical. It was a moment before he realized that they contained words.

"The sphere… Strange. Did you know that he lived? Yes. He is here, in the sphere itself. Maimed for certain. He calls to a higher power now. No, not Illidan. Higher. Kil'jaeden the Deceiver comes…

Illidan and Kil'jaeden? He swam up toward the voice, toward a blinding cascade of crystalline light. The light coalesced into a shifting pattern against—what? A night sky? No, against a curved background, a domed roof. Blurred swirls of color at the edges of his vision resolved, first into narrow, wavering, multicolored columns, and then into the figures of orc and human, troll and dwarf, kaldorei and sin'dorei. Some were walking, but most stood looking at the pattern of light, which Kael now saw was a radiant crystal, eight times the size of the one they had sent to Silvermoon. Was this the source of the voice? Seyla had claimed that the crystals were alive, that the screaming of the one in Silvermoon could be heard by every priest.

"Kael'thas Sunstrider has been defeated."

And with that he remembered. His own people rushing at him, faces ugly with hatred, murdering his advisors, attacking him. He could still feel the pain as they cut him, burned him, drained his life away.

"The time to strike at the remaining blood elves of Tempest Keep is now. Take up arms and let A'dal's song of battle empower you!"

Was this the being to which Voren'thal and hundreds of Kael's best had surrendered? What promises had it made to gain their loyalty? Why would it now incite the crowd against him, unless Voren'thal had—

His perspective shifted, as if he were floating to the ground. A cylinder filled with silvery liquid came into view, nearby but just out of reach, and with a start he recognized the vial of useless water Illidan had given him. Reflected in it was a small green stone… one of his mooncrystals. Taken from him after he had been struck down, no doubt.

What else had they stolen? Was it not enough that they had destroyed everyone and everything that was important to him?

The wings of the phoenix within him began to unfurl.

A word came to him—naaru—bringing with it a torrent of hatred as a counterpoint to his rage. Naaru were thieves, liars, seducers. Naaru were the enemy. A'dal was the enemy.

"Your puppets performed poorly, naaru," Kael shouted, "for I yet live. And if you think that taking those trifles from me will save you, think again. The master has found you, and soon he will burn this world. Neither you, nor that fool Illidan, nor the traitor Voren'thal will escape the might of Kil'jaeden!"

An enormous blast knocked him away.

When his vision cleared, he saw a familiar sky, one he knew well. Not the stormy violet that had been the backdrop for his fortress, but the teeming sky of Hellfire Peninsula, with its ribbons of light arcing through the darkness. Not for the first time, Kael wondered what they were. The fading traces of some light-infused being? Incorporeal guardians and observers? Or merely glowing dust, with no significance whatsoever?

Kael raised his hand. Gray skin dotted with sores. He dropped his arm, feeling a sting of disappointment. Kil'jaeden, Illidan's thistle den, Seyla, Thaladred, Voren'thal's defection… it seemed that a part of him had hoped against hope, after all.

"My lord!" Selin leaned into his field of vision, eclipsing the Outland sky. "You live!"

"Of course he lives," Delrissa replied from somewhere behind Kael.

"Your Thalassian is much improved," Kael said as he sat up.

They were outdoors, in a natural amphitheater that looked to be the remains of a long-dormant volcano. Greenish black rock formations ringed the crater. He, Delrissa, and Selin were nearly alone; there was a motley group of elves, satyrs, naga, and K'areshi some distance away, "Are we in Shadowmoon Valley?"

"No," Selin said as he draped a robe over Kael's shoulders. "Hellfire Peninsula. Not far from Magtheridon's northern citadel." As he knelt and slipped a pair of boots onto Kael's bandaged feet, he added quietly, "Don't worry, my lord. They haven't been close enough to see you."

Ah, yes, his undisguised appearance. He had just enough energy to apply his glamour, to hide his shriveled gray body and the ugly reddish-purple scars of the wounds Delrissa had healed: burns from spells, gashes from swords, puncture wounds from arrows. "How did I get here?"

"We pretended to be part of the invading forces," Selin said proudly, "and retrieved your body."

"And the others? Telonicus, Capernian, Sanguinar?" He knew the answer, but felt the need to ask.

"Gone," Selin said. "Thaladred too." He looked apologetic. "We… didn't bring their bodies out. There weren't many of us, and we were afraid they'd see the portal—"

"Were any of you there when Thaladred died?" Kael asked.

"No," Selin said slowly, "he was cold when we arrived. Is there something wrong, my lord?"

"No." Kael stood and began to button the robe. "Were you able to warn Vashj in time?"

"No. We were halfway to Coilfang when we were hailed by one of her commanders, Warlord Salaris. The Serpent Shrine was attacked the same time as the fortress was: Vashj had sent Salaris to ask us to send what troops we could to protect Lord Illidan."

Of course. "Illidan was under attack as well?"

"I don't think so," Selin replied. "While we were on the way to the Black Temple, we met Delrissa and a troupe of satyrs. Lord Illidan was countermanding Vashj's request, and ordering us not to aid him."

"Ordering?" Kael laughed. "He must think that distancing himself from us will keep him safe from Voren'thal and his new naaru allies."

Selin handed Kael a small round metal container and two moon crystals. "Kagani retrieved these. He couldn't find the third crystal."

"They took it," Kael said. "To their capital. I saw it. I was… there. Inside it. They had it displayed like a trophy." It made him angry again.

Selin looked dubious. "Forgive me for saying so, but it was probably a dream."

"Who are this 'they' you refer to?" Delrissa asked.

"A crystalline creature like the one we took from the fortress. Surrounded by dozens of Horde and Alliance forces. It was urging them to attack us." Kael opened the container Selin had given him. Inside was a handful of iridescent reddish ash, still radiating heat. "A'lar?" His eyes prickled, but remained dry: the Wretched had no tears.

Selin nodded.

"They can congratulate each other about their so-called victory all they want," Kael said. "Kil'jaeden knows they're here. He'll annihilate them." He smiled. "It was a very satisfying dream."

"It was no dream," Delrissa said. "In Shattrath, you were seen and heard."

"How can that be? He's been insensible since we took him from the fortress," Selin said.

Kael barely paid attention to the discussion that followed. Seen and heard? How? Did Kil'jaeden have spies everywhere on this world?

"His connection to the stolen moon crystal drove his incorporeal _shaza_ body to seek it out," Delrissa was saying to Selin. "Such journeys often occur when one is near death. If the task is not completed, the _shaza_ is bound to that time and place."

There was a sudden rumble behind them, and Kael turned to see what was happening.

A dark, towering column of mist was materializing at the northern edge of the crater; it thickened, clotted, and flashed with lightning, revealing a gargantuan face.

"I have followed the naaru and their sheep from world to world," Kil'jaeden began. He was not pleased. "I was content for them not to know the wolves were among them as I studied each and every one of them in order to design the perfect retribution. I intended to exact payment for the wrongs done to me, a thousand times over." Kil'jaeden paused, and the lightning in the cloud flashed frenetically. "And then you traveled to Shattrath and announced my presence to them."

Kael felt as though he was falling into an abyss that had opened under him. "They killed Thaladred and the rest of my people, and nearly killed me! Ask Tichondrius. And then I saw through the stolen sphere—A'dal was inciting them to return to the fortress and finish the job! Exterminate every last one of us!"

"My patience with your willfulness is at an end, magister," Kil'jaeden said. _"Ata ha'na!"_

A beam of green light snaked from the cloud, skewering and immobilizing Kael. A corona of violet spikes radiated out from his feet as a shimmering violet shield rose around him.

Kael's heart thumped painfully and wildly, like a terrified animal in a trap, but even more distressing was the complex swirl of emotions unleashed along with the pain. First, a surge of the love he felt toward his mother and his brother, the protective tenderness he felt toward his people, and the enjoyment and sense of accomplishment that had come from his early studies in Dalaran as a member of the Kirin Tor. This joy and contentment lasted only a moment, however, as it was quickly buried by the rage and sorrow and self-doubt he had felt each time he had been rejected or betrayed—by his father, by Jaina, by Garithos, by the Kirin Tor, by Telestra, by Illidan, by Voren'thal.

The pain in his chest became agonizing, as if everything that Kael was and had been and would be was converging on a single point and congealing into a jagged stone. He cried out as it lanced forward, slicing through his insides; blood bloomed on the front of his robe as it broke through the skin of his chest, a jagged, glowing green fel crystal that contained his soul.

.

The war-cry of Al'ar echoed from the Phoenix Hall.

Kael was on the fortress bridge. To his left, Capernian and Sanguinar; to his right, Telonicus and Thaladred. He could feel his three verdant spheres, replete with arcane energy, circling him. Had time somehow been reversed?

No. When he glanced down, although the front of his robe was unbloodied, he could see where the tip of the glowing soulstone crystal—which strangely, no longer pained him—pressed insolently against the fabric.

Before he could fully take in what this might mean, the sounds of battle echoing into the room from the halls became much louder—and then the enemy rushed in, slaying the mages and blood knights who stood at the doors as the last line of defense.

"Power," Kael found himself saying once again. "My people are addicted to it." Unlike the first time, Kael could see clearly that these enemies were from the races of the Horde, his erstwhile allies, with a number of sin'dorei among them.

They edged closer.

"Welcome to the future," Kael said, completely unable to stop himself from repeating his previous speech word-for word. "A pity you are too late to stop it. No one can stop me now! Selama ashal'anore! Let us see how your nerves hold up against the Darkener, Thaladred!"

Unlike the first time—when he had added the epithet to taunt Tichondrius—Kael felt certain that the dreadlord was not present… but then again, was Thaladred actually Thaladred? Had his advisors been resurrected so that they would relive their deaths as well, or were these four simulacra meant to remind Kael of those who had died because of their loyalty to him?

Thaladred charged out at the invading forces and was quickly cut down, followed in turn by Sanguinar, Capernian, and Telonicus. Each time, the reenactment forced Kael to repeat the words he had said the during the original battle; each time, Kael's advisors were slain.

There was a pause after Telonicus fell, and the Horde forces stood waiting. This was the point in the original battle when, incandescent with fury, he had summoned the enchanted weapons. What would happen if he refused to summon them now: could he change the outcome?

It appeared not. The seven weapons materialized and commenced their attacks all on their own.

When the weapons finally were vanquished—and taken in hand by the vanquishers, as if they had any right to them!—Kael shielded himself, expecting the final battle to begin. To his astonishment, however, Kael found himself saying, "It would be unfair to make you fight all four advisors at once, but… fair treatment was never shown to my people. Let me return the favor." The bodies of Thaladred, Sanguinar, Capernian, and Telonicus shimmered with a golden resurrection spell, and the four leapt at the enemy even more fiercely than before.

Kael, now unable to move or speak, or assist them in any way, wondered if Delrissa had done this for him—or was it Kil'jaeden or Tichondrius' doing, giving him false hope so that his eventual defeat would be all the more bitter? When a blood knight suddenly turned on her allies, Kael was too occupied maintaining his shield and throwing out spells against the twenty or so enemies attacking him to get a good look at her face. He had hoped that he would recognize her—perhaps she was one of those who had defected with Voren'thal, and was now having second thoughts about attacking her sovereign?—but she was taken down too swiftly. A moment later an orc and his pet raptor ran amuck, and after that an undead mage. Kael, nearing exhaustion, his supply of arcane energy almost gone, could almost hear Tichondrius laughing with glee.

"Enough!" he shouted, using the last of the stored power to fortify his shield and send out an arcane disruption that stunned the nearest enemies into a glassy-eyed stupor. "I have not come this far to be stopped! The future I have planned will not be jeopardized!" Even as he said this, he knew how false it was: he had been stopped, and the future he had planned utterly destroyed. His tormentors knew this all too well—for once again they dangled a boon before him.

"Now you will taste true power!" He had forgotten this part, forgotten the wild ecstasy of drawing on the fortress's nearly limitless power. Fed by every crystal pylon surrounding the dais, he levitated, drinking in the glorious arcane energy. So different from the brutal overload of fel that Kil'jaeden had inundated him with! It was an ecstatic experience on every plane; it was as though magic itself were his beloved, while, surrounded by adoring subjects, he was connected to the entire cosmos. Truly, this was what it meant to be a god. Intoxicated, he couldn't bring himself to stop until he lost his senses.

When he came back, he brought his enemies up to his level.

It ended, however, with as much pain and humiliation as before. Even with the massive infusion of power from the fortress, the attackers wore him down until he could no longer even shield himself, then hacked and slashed and blasted and beat him until he collapsed. They took a sphere; they took the vial; they even took the container with Al'ar's remains. They looked down on him with hatred; a few—two of them sin'dorei—spat on him.

And then he was back in the crater. This time there were no wounds to his body to heal; this time, he only had a moment's glimpse of Selin and Delrissa before he was sent back to go through his defeat again. The same events with a set of new faces, eager to slaughter his advisors and turn their weapons against their prince—and once again, the last thing he saw before darkness crushed him were faces looking down at him with triumphant contempt.

.

Kael learned very quickly that if he didn't expend every drop of his power in order to stay alive long enough to draw on the power of the fortress, his swift, painful death would leave him even weaker for the next cycle and an even swifter, even more painful death. And they were deaths. Even though he knew it was not permanent, that the crystal in his chest would bring him back, remaining conscious as he was swallowed by oblivion and utterly negated was excruciating.

Later, he thought of this period as the First Age.

As the relentless cycles went on—twenty, fifty, a hundred, a thousand—a dull, ashy resignation began to settle over him, numbing him to the pain until he became little more than a clockwork automaton casting fireballs. He had no idea how long this Second Age went on; he lost count because he no longer cared to count, because five thousand would be no different than five thousand thousand.

And still, inexplicably, the dim spark of defiance glowed. If Kil'jaeden thought he would be so easily broken, then he would push himself to fight more efficiently in each cycle, gradually building his reserves back toward the level which would allow him to draw on the arcane power stored in the fortress. He would once again reach that moment of bliss; once he did, he would be able to reach it every cycle. This knowledge gave him strength. He would draw upon his righteous anger once more, and summon the phoenix even here.

.

"What have you learned?" Kil'jaeden asked.

"My people no longer respect me," Kael said. The place Kil'jaeden had taken him this time was devoid of land or sky, an infinitely vast space dimly lit by unseen stars. "I no longer need to make sacrifices on their behalf. Aside from a hundred Illidari deserters, they have repaid my love and devotion with contempt and betrayal." He had seen thousands, tens of thousands of them now, seen how those who had once loved him now despised him as much as or more than the humans and trolls and orcs did. Even Rommath, whose loyalty he had once thought unshakeable, had not only done nothing when Kael first came under attack, but had apparently continued to do nothing. And Lor'themar! The devious former ranger had implicitly encouraged Voren'thal and his followers by not arresting them for treason immediately after their defection. He was as responsible for Kael's death as Voren'thal. "In fact, I no longer have a people. I renounce them, From now on, what happens in Quel'Thalas is not my concern." It was a harsh, painful thing to say, but it was justified. "I am wholly yours to command."

Kil'jaeden was silent for so long that Kael was startled when he finally did speak. "I intended for you to learn that you no longer have the power to choose what you will or will not do," Kil'jaeden said. "As the lesson was not successful, I will now give you some time to reflect before you are allowed another."

And then Kil'jaeden left him.

.

He was alone in the darkness.

He tried to move, but other than blinking and moving his jaw, he was entirely immobilized.

Like a moth caught in a spider's web.

The thought that even now some monstrous, unseen, inescapable creature might be creeping toward him filled him with rising terror. He strained to see or hear, telling himself that there was nothing in the vast, dim, silent emptiness, but he also couldn't stop himself from struggling against the unyielding bonds until he was exhausted.

When his mind had calmed enough to reason, he went over and over Kil'jaeden's words and actions. Hadn't he forced Kael to reenact his defeat in the fortress in order to break his dedication to his people? Why had Kil'jaeden been so incensed by Kael's pledge of loyalty? How could it have been the wrong answer, so wrong that it was deserving of this punishment?

.

It was Kil'jaeden who was wrong, Kael decided some time later. It was more meaningful to win the loyalty of someone who chose it freely, rather than a mindless puppet without free will.

.

And yet, as displeased as Kil'jaeden had been, he hadn't killed him. Was it significant that Kil'jaeden hadn't killed Illidan either—at least not yet—even though Illidan had failed Kil'jaeden even more often than Kael had? While Tichondrius was the type to keep someone alive simply to torture them and relish their pain, Kil'jaeden seemed beyond such diversions. Were Kael and Illidan alive because they were seen as still valuable, still potentially useful?

.

No, he had overvalued himself. He had simply been tossed aside. Abandoned. Left to starve to death… or would the crystal in his chest prevent him from dying? That would be a worse fate than starvation: his time in the Dalaran prison, when thirst had become nearly unbearable after only three days, would pale in comparison. What if Kil'jaeden left him here for months or years? Would he slowly feed off his own flesh until he was a living skeleton?

.

Illidan. Immortal, locked in darkness. He had survived for ten thousand years. How?

.

He hoped that Vashj had survived the attack on her Shrine, but feared she hadn't. He had become very fond of her, strange distant kindred as she was. She had never tried to manipulate him, had never lied to him, and if she thought of him as her inferior—as, in naga society, males overwhelmingly were—she had never showed it.

.

He desperately wanted to sleep, he desperately _needed_ to sleep, but he could not.

He talked to distract himself: to his father and his brother, to Antonidas and Jaina, to Rommath, to Lana'thel, even to Garithos and Illidan. All the while, thirst and the desire for arcane energy grew brighter on the horizon of his mind. The sensations were welcome at first, because without them he had felt disembodied, but too soon they began to overwhelm him. Each time it became unbearable, he drew a trickle of energy from his remaining spheres, but it sated him for a short time only; all too soon his skin was crawling and stinging again, becoming slick with sweat as he strained against his bonds, the need for magical power filling him with a maddening hunger.

He would have smashed his head against a wall, except that there were no walls in the void.

He began to rage and curse, and then, finally, to beg. He begged for forgiveness, for a second chance, for anything that would stop the torment; begged until his throat was raw and his voice was gone and he ran out of words; begged until every wisp of hope and fury and despair had drained from him, leaving him utterly shattered, his heart and mind empty.

Only then did Kil'jaeden appear.

The archdemon deluged Kael with fel energy—so much, too much!—and in the next instant cruelly took it away, leaving Kael alone once more. Again and again, until Kael's soul had burned out and he finally understood the lesson.

He was merely an instrument. He existed only to serve.

.

Selin and Delrissa had arrived shortly after Kael was deposited into the forge camp teleporter. They had not displayed any surprise at the circumstances of his return, and he had not asked them how long he had been gone, though the fact that the forge camp was hidden from view of the fortress by the massive force-domes that the K'areshi Consortium had erected over the remaining areas of greenery suggested that it his lessons had not been brief.

"It isn't too hot?" Selin asked.

Kael shook his head and lowered himself into the steaming water. He watched listlessly as Selin washed his tattered skin, being especially careful of the mana-sores and the necrotic flesh bordering the crystal. When Selin was done, Kael stood and stepped out of the water, allowing Selin to dry him.

The crystal now protruded too far from Kael's chest to be hidden under an over-robe, but the mantle, gauntlets, and high-waisted under-robe of the old Sunstrider regalia were still serviceable. Once Kael was dressed, Selin handed him the two remaining verdant spheres. They were as empty and dull and brittle-looking as their owner, but Selin then led Kael to a huge fel crystal.

"Drink," he said.

Kael had barely enough strength to begin the siphon, but once it had begun, he drew more and more greedily until both spheres were restored to their full glory.

"And now, I have news," Selin said. "Lord Illidan's temple is under siege, by the naaru and several bands of adventurers. The same adventurers who killed Vashj. I doubt they'll succeed. Illidan is formidable. And Kil'jaeden will protect him."

"Perhaps," Kael said, looking off at the violent sky over the abyss at the edge of the camp, "he will not."

"If not, Illidan will fall." Selin didn't seem distressed. "I will not mourn his passing, for I think you were right, my lord. I think Illidan was withholding a true source of power from us. Or perhaps he was lying and there wasn't anything. He was using us to achieve his goals. I suppose we used him in turn."

"Mistrust and contempt," Kael said. "The dregs of respect."

Delrissa approached. "Are you ready for the Master?"

"Yes."

She led him to a gateway of black metal and green fire, which took him to a world of arid red rock under a blazing, sulphurous sky.

.

Kael knew what was expected of him; he knelt, then prostrated himself.

The Master did not keep him waiting for long. "The naaru, expecting me to strike at Outland, have moved their cattle to Azeroth while they occupy themselves with Illidan," he said. "So be it. They can have him, and that desolate rock he clings to. My lieutenants are even now seeking the avatar of the Sunwell."

There was a time when Kael would have been surprised that Kil'jaeden knew of Anveena, but no longer. He supposed that Thaladred had spied on Kael's conversations with Rommath; or perhaps Rommath—or even Kael himself—had harbored a demonic trespasser at the time.

Kil'jaeden was still talking. "They will use it to to create a portal through which I will enter Azeroth and destroy my enemies. The first to fall, the one I seek above all others, was aboard the vessel that escaped; Sironas confirmed it. The screams of the naaru you captured will lure him to me. Bring it to the Sunwell that we may use it as bait."

"The captured naaru is deep within Silvermoon," Kael'thas said. "I am no longer strong enough to take it without help."

"I have empowered your forces," Kil'jaeden said. "Go. Do not fail me."

.

At the base in the Hellfire mountains, Selin Fireheart was waiting for him.

"Am I not magnificent?" Selin asked. He had gained several hand's-breadths in height, and his pale skin was now as red as raw meat, with jagged, dark red tattoos slashed across his cheekbones. Fel-veined horns had sprouted from his forehead, and a pair of small, black-feathered wings from between his shoulderblades. He was terrible and beautiful at the same time.

"How?" Kael asked. For a moment he recalled the shy, clumsy boy Selin had been, so many years ago. The eager youngling who preferred to stand in the shadow of power. Was he at last content?

"Kil'jaeden's gift," Selin said as he smiled, flashing strangely elongated incisors. "The blood of demons." He took Kael's hand and led him out of the teleporter. "Come with me. See what he has sent us."

Just outside the teleporter, nearly a hundred elves, similarly transformed, were gathered around huge brazierlike basins, above which gutted terrorfiends were impaled.

"They fled the Temple when Illidan was defeated," Selin said, "and the master directed them here. We call ourselves Shadowswords." He nodded at the far end of the crater, at several dozen untransformed elves huddled in uneasy silence. "It sets us apart from those that chose not to drink, since they had already announced that they were calling themselves Sunblades. In your honor, of course." It was indicative of the simplicity of Selin's thinking, that to him the name was a key difference.

"I did not know there were any still loyal to me," Kael said. So few; he had hoped that there might have been more.

"There are many who remain true," Selin said, "despite those who would deceive them with false accusations." He held out a scrap of parchment. "A message from the Grand Magister. We thought you should see it."

_I must be brief. The Amani, furious at the Horde for admitting us, are massing for an attack. Fortunately, northern Quel'Thalas is now secure enough that Lor'themar and I feel we can afford to take the bulk of our forces to the Ghostlands and counter whatever Zul'jin may be planning. Should you catch wind of any plans for a retaliation against Silvermoon, please inform me at once._

Rommath's private communication sigil was drawn in scarlet ink at the bottom of the page.

Kael frowned. "Why would he feel the need to add this when writing to me?"

"The letter was addressed to Voren'thal," Selin pointed out.

Kael turned the parchment over and looked at the broken seal. "So it was," he said faintly. There was a small, barely-felt twinge in his lifeless chest… Rommath? Allying with Voren'thal? How could he?

Then again, what was one more betrayal after so many?

.

The abduction, such as it was, went more smoothly than Kael had anticipated.

Upon arriving in the secret chamber beneath the Hall of Blood, Kael and the Shadowsword mages sent out an arcane pulse that knocked away and incapacitated the half-dozen magisters and blood knights who had been near the naaru.

Kael put up a shock barrier. Selin and the berserkers surrounded the naaru. Originally a pale yellow, it had darkened to shades of magenta and purple during its time in Silvermoon, but had lost none of the passivity it had displayed since it was taken. It did not react at all as the Shadowswords took hold of it and carried it toward the portal.

Kael listened for the screaming that Seyla had described, but could not hear it.

"What are you doing?" One of the dazed mages was getting to his feet.

It was Astalor. He gaped at Kael'thas for several seconds without recognizing him until he noticed the two verdant spheres. "You!" He laughed derisively. "If only Rommath were here to see his beloved prince!" He battered Kael's shield with fireballs. "Seeing the hideous, twisted gargoyle you've become would cure him of you."

"He would still choose me," Kael said as he knocked Astalor senseless with a second pulse, then escaped into the portal.

.

The base in the Hellfire Mountains was now eerily deserted, as the rest of the felbloods had already gone through the Legion portal to Quel'Danas. The only movement came from the still-twitching bodies of the dying terrorfiends that Selin and the others had feasted on, and the fel runes of the Legion transporter, cycling down as two gan'arg technicians pulled out its power core and control rods before hurrying inside.

Though he doubted they'd be pursued so soon—the second pulse had been at close range, and unless Astalor and the others were found and roused earlier, they would be out for hours—Kael still collapsed the mage portal he and the Shadowswords had taken from Silvermoon. "Just in case," he said, watching as one of the young Shadowsword mages created a portal to the Shrine of the Eclipse. After sending Selin and the others through with their naaru cargo, Kael collapsed this second portal as well, then teleported himself to the Sunwell.

Kael had not been back to Quel'Danas since he had brought Rommath there to test the water in Illidan's vial. That was the night when they had discovered the pair of young fugitives: Anveena Teague, a seemingly human girl who had been created by dragons to preserve the last pure essences of the Sunwell, and her protector Kalecgos, a Blue dragon disguised as a half-elf. It had seemed both strange and faintly romantic to Kael that the couple, who had been rescued from assassins and given sanctuary by Lor'themar, should wish to live in the echoing, empty building that had been built around the extinguished Sunwell, but he supposed that, like Rommath, he had secretly hoped that living near the place of her birth might somehow cause Anveena to gradually restore it.

Now, the Shrine of the Eclipse, where the fugitives had once hidden their bedrolls and built a cookfire, was crowded with elves and demons. From where Kael stood near the arched doorway, he saw nearly a dozen Shadowswords gathered around Selin and the naaru. Shivarra and warrior mo'arg stood guard along the walls, and an enormous, two-headed dog-like creature was blocking the ramp that led down to the Sunwell itself.

At the center of it all was a large demon who Kael assumed was Kil'jaeden's lieutenant, the nathrezim Sathrovarr.

Kael had never met a dreadlord in the flesh; his only encounters with Tichondrius had been while the dreadlord was possessing Thaladred. As it turned out, Sathrovarr's appearance was not much different than Illidan's. Larger overall, he had the same cloven-hoofed feet, though Sathrovrr's grotesquely-jointed legs were those of an eredar. His violet wings were less tattered, his ears were more bat-like, and he had elongated fangs. His gray-skinned face seemed crueler than Illidan's.

"How unfortunate that I am not a blacksmith," Sathrovarr said. "Dragon blood is an excellent addition to flux, and I've just procured a limitless supply." He stepped aside.

Behind him were Anveena and Kalecgos. Anveena, who was being restrained by two of the mo'arg, was disheveled but looked otherwise unhurt, but her protector had not fared so well. His face was bleeding and swollen with bruises. An undulating spell—presumably to prevent him from assuming dragon-form—twisted around his neck like a strangling vine, and his arms were wrenched behind his back and clamped into runed manacles.

"We are under the protection of Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider and Regent Lord Lor'themar Theron!" Kalecgos shouted at Sathrovarr. "By daring to lay hands on us, you risk their wrath!"

"Is that so?" Sathrovarr turned to Kael. "Are you feeling at all wrathful, Prince Kael'thas?"

Kalecgos scoffed. "You cannot fool me, demon! I have met Prince Kael'thas. That twisted creature is not him!"

The comment stung more than it should have, but with Sathrovarr and an audience looking on, Kael knew better than to show any sign of weakness.

Kalecgos' angry expression changed briefly to shock and pity as he looked closer—but then went back to anger. "You said you would keep our secret!" he said.

"Lor'themar promised that we would be safe here!" Anveena said.

"I had no idea that dragons were as stupid as humans," Sathrovarr scoffed. "You knew you were being hunted, yet you chose a remote, unguarded location and made no attempt to conceal your presence."

Kael wondered: had Lor'themar's promise of sanctuary been an empty one, or had he somehow forgotten that he had such valuable guests?

"Take me, and let Anveena go," Kalecgos demanded. "I am an emissary of Malygos. She is… no one."

"Oh, is that so?" Sathrovarr was nearly laughing. "Did you think you could deceive me with such a pathetic lie?"

"Please, help us," Anveena begged Kael.

She was… she looked too much like Jaina for Kael's comfort. He turned his head, so that he wouldn't have to look at her.

Sathrovarr made a dismissive gesture. "The noise it makes annoys me. Take it below."

As the mo'arg dragged the weeping, screaming girl away, Kael asked, "How do you intend to release the Sunwell energy?"

"You forget your place," Sathrovarr said. "You are to remain silent unless I give you permission to speak." He was watching Kalecgos struggling against his bonds, and asked him, "Would you like to watch, dragon, as we slit its throat and anoint the portal with its blood?" He glanced at Kael. "You have more to say?"

Kael averted his eyes. First Arthas, and now this demon. Tainting his blessed Sunwell with foul rituals.

"Oh, do tell me your thoughts, elf," Sathrovarr said, "so that I can slay you for insolence."

"She is irreplaceably unique," Kael said carefully. "I am merely concerned about the consequences should killing her not work. My lord."

Sathrovarr narrowed his eyes. "Provide an alternative, then, if you pretend to be so knowledgeable in such matters."

"The best way to release the Sunwell energy would be to reverse the spell that created her, but she might be coaxed into releasing it on her own."

"Coaxed into release… an intriguing suggestion." Kael had no idea what Sathrovarr might find 'intriguing,' but there was something in his tone that reminded Kael of Tichondrius' lascivious comments about Lana'thel.

Kalecgos must have noticed it as well, for he shouted "No!" and tried to lunge at the dreadlord.

Sathrovarr casually extended his hand, channeling a spell that instantly dropped Kalecgos to his knees, doubled over in silent agony. "Who will stop me? You?"

Kael realized with dismay that he might have inadvertently set Sathrovarr down a path Kael did not want him to take. Anveena needed to survive the preparations for Kil'jaeden's arrival, so that when the demons were gone, Kael could restore the Sunwell and show his people see how wrong they had been about him. "I have dealt with humans for hundreds of years, my lord," he said. "They are frail and unpredictable. Since this girl has the form of a human, has lived among humans for some time and passed as a human, it is probable that she has human motivations and reactions as well. A very delicate touch will be required to make sure she is not rendered useless." He paused. "For example, carnal… activity clearly is not sufficient to reverse the spell; if it was, she would have dispersed her energy months ago." To ensure that the dreadlord understood his meaning, Kael inclined his head toward Kalecgos, who was still writhing under Sathrovarr's attack.

"I see." Sathrovarr was now eyeing Kael with mild distaste rather than outright hostility. "Are all elves this wordy?" he asked one of the shivarra next to him. She gave a small, non-committal shrug.

"If I be permitted to offer further counsel?" Kael continued, hoping to build on the small amount of goodwill that he seemed to have garnered. "Killing the dragon before we have extracted the energy from her might not be wise. The report I received on her described how she unleashed a powerful attack to protect him. If their bond is deep, his death might make her too distraught to be cooperative."

Sathrovarr closed his fist, ending the spell. Kalecgos collapsed. "Thank you," he gasped.

"I am not motivated by compassion, dragon," Kael said. "My only concern is the success of the Master's plan."

Sathrovarr studied Kael with burning, mesmeric eyes. "You may yet convince me of your dedication, elf."

Kael bowed.

"Protectiveness… " Sathrovarr stroked his chin with one clawed hand. "Dream!" he commanded, abruptly holding his palm up to Kael's face as a mesmerizing sigil took shape.

Kael was on a platform in a cathedral of ice, the still air so cold that his breath made clouds of ice crystals. There was something familiar about the curdled sky above the jagged horizon, and the sting of the wind.

Icecrown Glacier.

"Kael'thas." The voice behind him was warm, and kind.

He turned. "Jaina?" Though it could not possibly be her, it was. She sat on a throne of ice at the top of a frozen stairway. She looked different then when he'd seen her last, sombrely packing books in the Kirin Tor library before leaving for Kalimdor; then, there had been soot on her face and Stratholme cinders in her hair, and she had been dressed as simply as a ranger. Now, she was radiant in a sleeveless, high-collared elven-style gown of red and gold. Even without a crown, she was regal.

"You came for me," she said, shivering. Her lips were pale, and Kael noticed with alarm that she was literally bound to the throne at wrist and ankle with shackles of ice. "Hurry! Before he comes back!" she urged. There was no need to ask who she meant.

Kael raced up the steps and knelt at her feet, cupping his hands over the ice and conjuring a succession of small fireblasts to melt her bonds.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," she said. "I wanted to tell you how sorry I was."

"Sorry?" he asked. Her feet were blue-white inside the golden slippers she wore; he lifted them carefully away from the remains of the ice and held them until he realized that, dead as he was, he no longer had any warmth in his body to share with her.

He stood to work on freeing her hands.

"I chose wrong," she said. She was looking at him with such affection that for a moment he let himself bask in the glow, remembering how often he had imagined presenting her to his father, sharing the wedding cup with her, and seeing her close the door to the bridal chamber while looking back over her shoulder at him with a playful smile…

"Hurry!" she said. "Free me, so that we can be together."

Kael smiled. Every detail was perfect: her voice, the smell of her hair, the tiny goosebumps on her arms… plucked from Kael's memories and half-forgotten fantasies, the illusion was so convincing that it had manipulated him into expending energy on spells. If this was representative of Sathrovarr's skill, Kael had no doubt he could invent something even more convincing for Anveena, who was a much simpler creature…

He turned and descended the stairs. When Arthas appeared and began his boastful threats, Kael threw a fireball at him just for old times' sake, then walked off the edge of the platform.

"Was that sufficiently delicate?" Sathrovarr asked.

"Yes," Kael said. "Something like that should work quite well."

Delrissa and a retinue of satyrs and ethereals were approaching.

"And now… " Sathrovarr nodded at his remaining mo'arg. Two took the naaru from Selin, while two others took places on either side of Kael.

"What is this?" Kael asked.

"They will escort you to your new home," Sathrovarr said. "It's nearby."

"I am to be a prisoner?"

"You have done what you were asked to do," Sathrovarr replied. "Now you will await further orders. If you are properly obedient, or suggest something that amuses me, I might be persuaded to let you out, now and again."

"I was thinking of digging up my father's skull," Kael said. "And eating it."

"How sentimental," Sathrovarr said. He turned to Selin. "You are offered a choice. Assist me, or tend to your… prince." This last was pronounced with derision.

"As both duties serve the Master," Selin replied smoothly, "If it pleases you, I will continue to serve as Kael'thas' steward."

"Very well." Sathrovarr motioned to the guards. "Take them away."

.

Kael could almost have admired Sathrovarr's flair for humiliation, if it hadn't been directed at him. Rather than simply teleport Kael out of the Sunwell complex, Sathrovarr instead forced Kael to walk, led like a prisoner. Down the ramp from the Shrine of the Eclipse, past group after group of expressionless demons and whispering Shadowswords and Sunblades.

As they passed through the Sanctum, he glimpsed a draenei that he at first thought was Sironas. Sitting side by side with a redder twin on one of the small resting-couches, she was reading an ancient tome bound in leather that looked distressingly like skin.

They passed through the Serenity Chamber, once set aside for weddings and solstice rituals, and then out into the sunlight again. Kael was feeling weak, having expended what little energy he had during Sathrovarr's illusion.

Selin noticed this, and said something in eredun to Delrissa, who in turn exchanged a few words with the mo'arg. Whatever she reported back to Selin made him snort derisively, stop walking, and hold out his arm to Kael. "Siphon from me," he said. "I have more than enough to share with you."

One of the mo'arg raised his axe, and Kael hesitated.

"Do it now, my lord," Selin said. "We will explain that you must be fed."

Delrissa hissed a single word, and the mo'arg lowered his axe.

Self-conscious and ashamed, Kael drew only enough to restore his flagging energy. "Thank you."

In the Den of Inquiry, whose south wall, never repaired after Arthas' attack, still looked out over the Dead Scar, Shadowswords were busy hanging felshards and setting up thistle pipes.

Den of Inquiry? Den of Iniquity would now be a better name.

They continued along the mezzanine that ran around the perimeter of Parhelion Plaza, then down a ramp and through terraces and ruined gardens, exiting via the Shepherd's Gate. As they crossed the promenade that stretched over Dawning Square, Kael looked down to his right and saw a procession of demons emerging from the portal in Dawning Square. Kil'jaeden's enemy must be formidable to send so many.

At the end of the promenade, the mo'arg turned right, marching through the deserted trade village and toward the road that led to the magisters' retreat on the terraced cliffside above.

By the time they began the trudge uphill, two or three dozen Sunblades who had been trailing them since Parhelion Plaza had become bold enough to catch up to them, and then surround Kael like an honor guard.

"Are you certain you want to be seen with me?" Kael asked an arcane researcher who he recognized as one of those who had worked with Pathaleon at the Mechanar before the mo'arg arrived. "You may become tainted by association."

"We serve you, your majesty," she said. "Not—" She glanced at Delrissa. "Not anyone else."

"Thank you."

The inside of the building was deliciously cool. Kael was exhausted; the boost of energy Selin had given him was gone, and so he gratefully collapsed onto one of the couches in the assembly chamber.

The mo'arg grabbed his arm and jerked him to his feet.

Energized slightly by anger, Kael continued through the hallways.

The retreat house had had many purposes over the millennia. In its early years, it had served at various times as a dormitory, a performing arts center, or a barracks. After that it had a long life as a center for esoteric magical research, though it had gradually been overshadowed by the larger academies in Silvermoon. In more recent times, it had become a refuge for those seeking a quiet space for meditation and study (and occasionally discreet assignations) away from bustle and distractions and gossip.

This was, Kael reflected, one of the few times it had been used as a prison. Perhaps even the first.

The bookcases in the Halls of Learning were empty—more 'heritage preservation efforts' by Tae'thelan and Belloc, no doubt. As they walked outside on the the Solar Terrace, Kael saw a small sculpture that had escaped the salvagers, a pearlescent jade orb with golden wings set on a low stand. Kael couldn't recall ever seeing it in the retreat before, but then he hadn't been here in years. Inside, down a small flight of stairs and a hallway, and they emerged into the sunlight again, into the gardens and fountains of the observation grounds.

"Lovely," Delrissa said, trailing her hands along a decorative pillar and delicately touching the trumpet-flowers of a climbing vine. "A pity it will burn."

"I don't think I've ever heard a demon express appreciation for beauty before," Kael said to her. He was puzzled by the second half of her comment.

"There were gardens on my world before the Legion came," she said.

Delrissa and the ethereals stayed outside to admire the garden as Kael and Selin entered the arched hallway that led to the final wing of the retreat, the private apartments set aside for the incumbent Grand Magister.

As Belo'vir's successor, Rommath had inherited exclusive use of the suite, with its personal teleportation orb and its spectacular seaside views, but he had once told Kael he could not bear to enter the rooms. "They are too large," he'd said. "Too empty."

Seeing the rooms now, Kael had to concur, at least partially, for they had been stripped of all but the oversized ornamental shields on the walls. The pillagers had left the translocation orb as well, of course: either because it was bolted to the floor, or because they knew it was useless if not positioned over the leyline junction to which it had been attuned.

"This is not acceptable," Selin said. "You can't be expected to stay here under these conditions—no bed, not even a chair! And you need sustenance. I'll ask the K'areshi to send a supply of mana cubes."

"I appreciate your effort," Kael said, "but I doubt Sathrovarr will allow it."

"I don't answer to Sathrovarr," Selin said.

"That's good," Kael said. "I don't like him much."

"He doesn't trust you," Selin said. "He thinks you'll interfere." He turned to go.

Interfere? "Selin," Kael asked, "Why did Delrissa say the garden will burn?"

"Because that is what happens to worlds that do not join the Legion," Selin said, as easily as if he were stating a trivial fact. "Now, don't worry, my lord. I will be back soon."

And then he hurried away.

There was a roaring in Kael's ears.

The Legion wasn't trying to take over this world! Kil'jaeden's personal mission had simply brought him here in pursuit of his enemy. After that he'd leave.

Kael went to one of the doors; even if he no longer breathed, he had a sudden need to feel the sea air on his face. The door would not open.

Azeroth had defeated the Legion twice, he reassured himself, grasping fearfully at history. Sargeras had been rebuffed during the Sundering, and Archimonde had been defeated in Kalimdor. There was no reason for them to try to seize a world that had defeated them twice!

He tried another door, and then another, but they were all barred from the outside, or locked, or nailed shut. He started toward the hall, thinking to go out into the garden, but one of the axe-wielding mo'arg stepped in front of him.

The demon's axe was made of a black metal shot through with silver veins, like lightning stabbing down from a sky of perpetual night.

.

Selin did not return.

There were no candles or lamps in the room. Not that it mattered: there was nothing to read.

Kael spent what daylight hours remained sitting on the floor next to the translocation orb. He had pressed his hand to it earlier, but it had not responded to him.

As it began to grow too dark to see, he lay down with his back to the heavy oaken door behind the orb. Locked, of course, but it was furthest from the demons stationed at the entrance to the suite. He could almost imagine the cool, fresh sea air seeping across the threshold beyond the locked door, could almost hear the gentle hiss of the waves on the rocks below. He clung to the sound, hoping it would lull him to sleep; he had been fearful of sleeping in the dark when he was a child, and had never completely grown out of it. His verdant spheres, which he had put below the crystal globe of the translocation orb to amplify their dim light, could barely be seen in the darkness. He dared not use the little energy they contained to conjure even the tiniest of glow-sparks.

When he finally did sleep, he was assaulted by vivid, incomprehensible dreams that fled like smoke every time he started to rise toward consciousness.

Only the last remained with him. He had been visiting Rommath, who for some reason was conducting alchemy experiments in a tiny, coffin-like room. There had been something involving fel-thorn brambles, though the details were hazy, and then Kael—or perhaps it was Kael-as-Rommath, or Rommath-as-Kael, dreamlogic was so often nonsensical—had suddenly been in the Hellfire Mountains, part of a bizarre sacrificial ritual. He was assisting, or maybe he was trussed on the altar, but somehow Quel'Thalas herself was there as well… though how Kael knew this, or what form she had taken, he couldn't recall.

Shaking and fearful, nauseated with the stirrings of hunger, he lay looking up at the impenetrable ceiling of the room.

How had he come to this? Once, long ago, he had vowed never to side with demons… and then, step by step, he had broken that vow. Each time, it had seemed the best choice—no, it had been the best choice, often the only choice, for his people. Between demons and death, between demons and annihilation, he had chosen demons, because who would choose annihilation and death?

His first mistake, he now knew, had been in approaching the demonic world as if it were a difficult new language or a magical conundrum. Something useful that could be mastered in time if one was diligent and observant enough to learn the rules that governed it.

He had also erred by assuming that he understood demons in general simply because Illidan, the first one he met, appeared to have many of the same motivations and reactions and flaws as non-demonic mortals did. Illidan had been prideful and enjoyed grandstanding, yet his mercurial moods showed how emotionally fragile he was, paranoid and overly-sensitive to rejection.

And then Kael had encountered Kil'jaeden. Before Illidan, Kael would have expected chaotic malice from an archdemon: what he found, after the terrifying aspects were taken away, was a being who seemed unexpectedly purposeful. Almost reasonable. By the time Kael learned of Kil'jaeden's vendetta against his unnamed enemy, it was easy to see it as analogous to his own vendetta against Arthas, and so Kael had assumed—wrongly, he now knew—that Kil'jaeden wanted to be brought to Azeroth for that one reason only. That the demon lord might also impose an ultimatum to the entire planet—bow down to the Legion or be destroyed—had, astoundingly, not entered Kael's mind. Yes, Illidan had told him that the Legion's demonic armies were incomprehensibly vast, but who could keep such an overwhelming fact front and center all the time?

Kael covered his face with his hands. Hopeless. Powerless. Worthless. What was he doing? Why was he continuing to make excuses, to rationalize his actions? He had lied to himself, suppressed his uneasiness, and chosen to ignore warnings and rumblings from those he should have trusted. He had failed his people, his ancestors, and himself. He had doomed the world. His golden dreams had come down to this.

_Here stands the shrine of Kael'thas, a fitting tribute to a wretched elf. Let all who gaze on this monument remember the mistakes he made in the name of our people and his dedication to the cause of our ultimate annihilation. All whom the Legion destroyed in Quel'Thalas died because of him._

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_~ Final chapter: Unraveling ~_

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_ First post 18 December 2016; rev 22 Oct 2017 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to **Bryn** for beta, and for a nifty twist to my Madrigosa headcanon; to **Mipeltaja,** for discussion whether or not undead still breathe, and for tolerating my ranting about Why Madrigosa Should Have Been the Dragon Questgiver in MgT; and to **Stinger,** for first letting me brainstorm various ways Kael could have acquired the fel crystal in his chest, for coming up with a brilliant (yet obvious in retrospect) solution to my Kalecgos problem AND my Sathrovarr problem.


	20. Grand Magister's Asylum (Kael'thas), V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ** CONCLUSION ** Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider serves the archdemon known as Kil'jaeden the Deceiver… but Kil'jaeden is not the only one skilled at deception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is based on the Sunwell Plateau raid, the Magister's Terrace dungeon and quests, the dungeon journal, and the lore added in Legion for the Destruction warlock artifact weapon.
> 
> All named characters are canon NPCs. Some have been given abilities and responsibilities that they do not display in canon.
> 
> If you've never done the Kil'jaeden encounter in the Sunwell Plateau raid, you may want to [read up on it a little](http://wow.gamepedia.com/Kil%27jaeden_\(tactics\)), and/or watch a raid video before reading the chapter. (I very much recommend the video of SK Gaming's world first Kil'jaeden defeat, which incorporates audio of the NPC dialogue and emotes.)

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~ : |20| : ~

_"Let the unravelling of this world commence!"_

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You enjoy seeing me in this state, don't you? You need your inspiring stories to be uncomplicated. Heroes are beautiful and noble and never make mistakes; villains are repugnant and depraved and utterly irredeemable.

And that's where I come in, isn't it? If you are to be a hero, you require a villain. If none are at hand, you create one, casting the role with someone you can hate with impunity. Someone like me. A hideous parody of my former self, undead, despised by my people, a prisoner in my own lands… It would never occur to you that there might be more to me than what you see on the surface, because that would disturb your tiny-minded world-view.

So be it. You don't deserve the truth.

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He had fallen asleep at last, despite the chorus of voices shouting what a failure he was, and woke feeling calmer. There was nothing he could do to stop the events he'd inadvertently set in motion, and this thought pushed aside most of the cacophony left over from the night before.

His hunger also distracted him, made the world recede from the single burning point that was his existence. Where was Selin? He had promised to return quickly! Too weak to stand, Kael pulled himself up to a sitting position to see if the guards were still at his door.

They were.

He could not stop staring at the blades of the axes they carried. He was certain that the black metal shot through with silver was the same material that had caught his eye so many years ago on his first day in Dalaran. The shard he had picked up in the Kirin Tor salvaging storeroom had remained in his workshop for years, a curiosity he'd kept because it was different from any metal he'd ever seen, but now his mind began to sift for greater meaning. He could almost believe that the metal had deliberately sought him out, first putting itself in his way in the storeroom, and then, later, making sure that he recovered it from the ruins after Archimonde levelled the city. Somehow it had even insinuated itself into the repair of Felo'melorn, as if to underscore that he was fated to collaborate with the Legion.

Kael shook his head. No, while others might blame fate or quasi-sentient metal, he was not going to hide behind such excuses. He often faulted Selin's attraction to powerful people, but truly, he was not so different. He was, he had always been, fascinated with power. it was why he had become a mage, relishing the power it gave him as much as or even more than the thrill of pursuing new knowledge. It was why he had initially followed Illidan, and why he had convinced himself and his advisors to deal with Kil'jaeden despite their reservations.

He looked down at his grey-skinned hands, and then touched the crystal jutting from his chest. And that compromise, the willingness to ally with what he had once fought against, had made made him a monster. It was an odd twist, that he and Sylvanas now had more in common after their deaths than they had in life. At least the Dark Lady and her thousands of subjects had each other; Kael was, in a sense, now even more forsaken than they.

There was the sound of someone approaching. "Selin?"

It was Delrissa. Behind her were two K'areshi pushing floating carts stacked, six high, six wide, six deep, with manacubes.

"Your cries could be heard in the courtyard," she said as the K'areshi began to unload the cubes. "Some found them disturbing."

Kael reached out and drew a strand from the cube, almost sighing as the arcane energy washed over him. He would wait to indulge himself until after Delrissa had left, so as not to offend her with an undignified display. "Where is Selin?" he asked.

She waved three of her hands. "He is being instructed by Sathrovarr on the proper forms of address."

With a sinking feeling, Kael asked, "What happened?"

"Selin demanded that you be given food and furnishings immediately. Lord Sathrovarr indicated that your comfort was not his primary concern. Selin pointed out that Kil'jaeden had empowered him by allowing him to drink the blood of demons, and also mentioned that he was very adept at siphoning demonic life-force. This was not received well."

"Threatening Sathrovarr was foolish."

"Selin does not fear the nathrezim illusions," Delrissa said. "His nightmares accompany him. He sees them always."

It hadn't occurred to Kael that Delrissa—a demon—would know more about Selin's personal life than he did, but then, Kael had never given it any thought. Had Selin's life been more difficult than the normal hardships the child of a fatherless, untitled house would face? "Wouldn't that make him easier to read?"

"Sathrovarr has no interest in the surface," Delrissa responded. "He hunts in the depths. Pursues what is being hidden or avoided. His feast is the emotion that accompanies unwanted thoughts. Shame. Guilt. Resentment. Fear."

This explanation made the illusion of Jaina that Sathrovarr had created more unsettling. Kael hadn't let himself think of Jaina in a long time, because whenever he did there was always a stab of longing and self-doubt as he imagined what might have been, what he could have done differently—and then he always pushed such feelings down and away, telling himself that the possibility of a future with Jaina had faded long ago. If that was what Sathrovarr had drawn upon—simply because Anveena had fleetingly reminded Kael of Jaina—it was a deeper violation than having one's mind read. It was like a thief sneaking into one's bedroom in the middle of the night and rifling through precious mementos. He shuddered. "Selin is fortunate to be immune to such probing."

"Perhaps," Delrissa said, "but Sathrovarr has other abilities." She nodded at the door.

Selin was coming through the doorway. In contrast to his jaunty and energetic departure the day before, now he was downcast, his shoulders slumped, his hands clasped meekly in front of him. "Furnishings for your comfort," he said tonelessly, then stepped aside. His eyes were frighteningly empty.

A half dozen mo'arg entered, carrying a larger-than-life Sunstrider dynasty statue and a blood-red scrying orb. A moment later, more demons carried in a second statue—and then, as if these 'furnishings' were not insulting enough, a third group carried in what Kael recognized as Anasterian's throne from the royal observation box.

"This is—" Kael was incoherent.

Delrissa, having watched Selin's return and Kael's reaction without comment or explanation, followed the other demons out.

"Please," Selin said, "accept these gifts from Lord Sathrovarr." He stepped closer. Emotion was returning to his face, fear and shame. "Do you wish to take from me as you did before, my lord, or would you prefer something more intimate? Of all the masters I've had, you have treated me the most kindly. I am happy to comfort you."

Kael was appalled. He glanced at the scrying orb: it might have been his imagination, but it looked as though Sathrovarr's face was leering out at them. "It is not necessary."

Selin took Kael's hand. "Please, my lord… if I cannot serve you, what purpose do I have?"

The touch made a red mist encroach on the edges of Kael's vision, intensifying his hunger and making it difficult to pull his hand away. "It would be wrong to take from you in the state you're in," he said, turning to the manacubes.

Consequences be damned. He had no intention of providing Sathrovarr with entertainment.

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Several hours later, after Kael had moved the scrying orb to a spot behind the throne in order to give Sathrovarr an unobstructed view of dark blue fabric and a wall, several demonic guards arrived. They brushed past Selin and grunted at Kael in such a way that he assumed he was being ordered to follow them.

Through the empty halls, though the empty gardens—Delrissa and her cadre nowhere to be seen—through the Halls of Learning and the Assembly Chamber, every Sunblade they passed along the way looked away quickly, pretending to be engaged in some nonsensical task.

So that's how it was, was it? He supposed he couldn't blame them. He was hardly the shining Sunstrider they must have wanted to serve.

Outside, the fresh air and sunlight lightened his mood. As they crossed the walkway over Dawning Square, he saw that the portal was still disgorging a steady parade of demons. Surprising that there had been no response from Lor'themar or Rommath to the invasion: was the troll situation at Zul'Aman so serious that no one in Silvermoon had yet noticed what was happening on Quel'Danas?

Through the plaza and up the ramps. Kael was amused that Sathrovarr—he assumed it was Sathrovarr who had sent for him—was making him walk all this way instead of simply opening a portal to fetch him. Was it a demonic personality trait, expressing pettiness with grand gestures? it was the sort of thing Illidan might have done.

A shadow passed across the walkway ahead of him, and he stopped to look up. Gliding high overhead was a dragon. White belly, wings edged in blue. Could it be Kalecgos? Anyone else, having escaped Sathrovarr, would have fled Quel'Danas, but Kael was certain that Kalecgos would remain and attempt to rescue Anveena.

The guards prodded him, and he resumed walking.

Kael found Kalecgos both intriguing and annoying. His gallantry, a virtue that Kael generally found admirable, was ostentatious. Granted, this might not be out of character for a dragon, as Telestra had said that they sometimes displayed elven emotions such as affection and loyalty and anger, but Telestra had, ironically, also claimed that dragons were secretive, rarely revealing their stratagems to mortals. Kael had been surprised that Sathrovarr had been able to subdue Kalecgos in the first place, since he should have been powerful enough to resist capture, but perhaps the dragon wanted to be taken prisoner; if so, he must have had reasons other than love for staying near the Sunwell.

These ruminations occupied Kael until they entered the Den of Inquiry. A half-dozen elves—Sunblades all, not a Shadowsword among them—sat on the floor smoking thistle. "There are better uses to which you could put your time," he said as he passed them. It was disappointing that they were spending their days in a drugged stupor.

Kael followed the demons through the still-gaping hole where the south wall had been demolished by Arthas, then picked his way down the pile of rubble that was all that remained of the south tower. As he walked across the lifeless earth of the Dead Scar, he prepared himself to be transported to another world.

The world he was leaving was not that different than it had been before the invasion. The light was still golden, and flowers still bloomed, occasionally even scenting the air with their sweetness. The citizens were normal sin'dorei, with no demons in sight except for the rare warlock minion. Yes, there were fel crystals along the concourse where once there had been arcane crystals, but that change had happened years before the demons came.

Now, as Kael ascended the ramp to the upper level, the air became heavy with the suffocating reek of brimstone. Demons stood guard at every corner, and trios of Shadowswords—who, as magnificent as they were, seemed to Kael to be far more demonic than elven—patrolled the stairs. It may have been due to the presence of dozens of infernals and imps, but Kael now found the sunlight on the upper level so harsh it nearly burned his eyes.

Not that he wanted to look closely anyhow. For all that he had tried to restore her, the Quel'Thalas of his youth was forever lost to him.

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The Serenity Chamber, now dimly lit only by glowing red crystals, was like some nightmarish blood grotto. Sathrovarr, holding a rusty swortshord, stood next to a low divan looking down at Kalecgos, who was still locked into half-elf form. Kalecgos' clothes were soaked with sweat and blood, and though his eyes were open, he didn't appear to be breathing.

So the dragon soaring overhead hadn't been Kalecgos after all.

The sight of the sword made Kael remember the day he had met Arthas Menethil. The brash young prince had come into Kael's workshop while Jaina was visiting, and had casually insulted Kael until the two had fought a duel. Kael had fought fairly, with skill and grace, but Arthas had cheated like a street thug and then taken Jaina away. His dislike of the human had begun that day, and grown over the years into unmitigated hatred as Arthas had committed crime after crime against Kael's people.

"My, my," Sathrovarr said. "The slaughter of your people, the death of your father, the destruction of your lands, and at least two lost loves? Such delicious bitterness."

"Why am I here, my lord?" Kael asked.

"Tell me, do you object to the Master's plans for this world?" Sathrovarr asked.

"If this world burns," Kael said, "Arthas will burn as well." It was a ridiculous response, but he had a feeling it would please Sathrovarr.

It did. Sathrovarr studied him keenly for a moment, then said, "I have decided to allow you to redeem yourself. The witches to whom the Master gave the task of creating a portal from the Sunwell energy have not been successful."

Kalecgos blinked and lifted his head at the mention of Anveena. Not dead after all, it seemed.

Sathrovarr paid no attention to his captive. "You, I am told," he said to Kael, "have knowledge of such things."

Kael was reeling, but he was not going to show it. If Kil'jaeden needed his help, the Legion forces on Azeroth must not have much magical expertise, which might mean… No. He needed to stay calm and appear obedient while he gathered information. Let them continue to underestimate him. "Magical transfer, containment, and amplification were my life's work when I was a mage of the Kirin Tor," he said, "but I doubt my old knowledge will be useful."

"They will be the judge of that," Sathrovarr said. He waved his hand, dismissing a shimmering shield that had blocked the archway leading to the Terrace of the Sun. "You have my permission to speak to them."

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The 'witches' to whom Sathrovarr had referred were twin eredar, Alythess and Sacrolash, who had taken over the Sanctum at the end of the Terrace of the Sun. One red-skinned, one violet, they circled around Kael like predators toying with a fledgling fallen from the nest.

"Shame."

"Humiliation."

"Hunger."

"Anger."

"Broken."

"Wretched."

Kael supposed that some would find it intimidating. He did not. "Please show me what you've done thus far."

The two led him to the Shrine of the Eclipse—in which the stained naaru hovered—and then, with the assurance of lynxes, entered the darkened archway that led to the depths of the Sunwell enclosure. Kael didn't have such feline vision, and so conjured a small light-spark before following them through the archway and down.

When they reached the bottom of the ramp, Alythess and Sacrolash stopped at the edge of the round platform that surrounded the extinguished Sunwell. Kael moved past them and saw, glowing in the shadows ahead, what looked like a bundle of rags.

He hurried forward. It was Anveena, blindfolded, bound, and gagged. He had hoped that the stern warnings he'd given Sathrovarr would have protected her from the treatment given to Kalecgos, but as he moved closer he saw burn marks and cuts on the girl's bare feet. At least she was alive; her chest still rose and fell.

He turned to glare at Alythess and Sacrolash. "Release her!" he said. "And bring a healer."

Alythess raised an eyebrow.

Kael turned back to Anveena. He was able to take hold of the end of the blindfold and pull it off over her head—how could she continue sleeping so deeply, when so much evil and danger surrounded her?—but he wasn't sure he could remove the gag or the bonds on her hands and feet without touching her. Recalling what had happened when he'd touched Selin, he was apprehensive about what touching Anveena might do.

And then, just for a moment, curious.

"Give me your dagger," he said to Sacrolash, but when he held out his hand she merely stared at him.

Ridiculous. He could conjure a weapon—he'd certainly had had enough practice during Kil'jaeden's 'lessons'—but he was hesitant to do so in front of the two eredar. There must be something with a sharp edge in the debris on the ground around the Sunwell, a stone or scrap of metal… if there wasn't, he'd go back to Sathrovarr and borrow the sword the dreadlord had been using to torture Kalecgos.

As he walked away from the center of the Sunwell toward the shadowed walls, something glinted in the darkness to his right.

He moved toward it. It was a large winged orb on a tripod, similar to the one on the Solar Terrace. This green crystal orb was large, as wide as his chest, and the tips of the spread wings were higher than his head.

Kael sent his spark to circle the room and saw three more. "What are these?" he asked Alythess, but she and Sacrolash weren't paying any attention to him. They were standing with their heads slightly tilted, as if listening intently to something he could not hear.

Kael was reaching out to touch the edge of the orb's wing, wondering if it was sharp enough to cut rope, when he heard movement. He turned.

Sacrolash was marching toward Anveena.

Kael put a hemispherical shield around the girl. "No."

"Remove the barrier," Alythess said. "My sister will cut its bindings." It was too dark to see her expression.

"No," Kael said, "I'll release her." He walked around the shield.

With a flip of her wrist, Sacrolash reversed her hold on the dagger and held it out to him.

Kael took it and stepped inside the shield. First he carefully cut the rope binding Anveena's wrists and ankles, then sliced through the knot of the cloth gag.

"Retaining human form expends power," Alythess said. She had conjured her own light. "Putting strain on it should have made it abandon its form and release its energy."

"Did Sathrovarr tell you nothing? This girl is a dragon construct, created to pass as human," Kael said. "Her appearance is entirely different from a standard magical glamour. It's an essential element of her form." He stood. "And I must repeat to you what I told Sathrovarr. Anveena is irreplaceable. No more of your clumsy experiments can be allowed." He drew on his crystals to create a shock barrier that completely surrounded Anveena in an unbreakable arcane sphere, then added a rune of levitation.

As Anveena floated up out of reach, Sacrolash made a tsk of disgust, while Alythess nodded.

"Now," Kael said, dismissing his initial shield. "Tell me, what were you going to do if she decided to release her energy before you were ready to collect it?"

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Alythess' plan to summon Kil'jaeden was elegant. Kael couldn't help but secretly admire it, and found the historical background fascinating as well.

As Alythess explained—Sacrolash had nothing to say to Kael after snatching back her dagger—when Sargeras had initially begun to enter Azeroth, he had relied on the Highborne sorcerers of the court of Queen Azshara. These sorcerers—among them a young Illidan Stormrage—had created what was in essence a standard teleportation portal. Yes, it was massive in size, and yes, it took a staggering number of mages countless hours to power fully, but aside from its grandiose scale, it followed the same principles as every other portal. Two static constructions, one at the starting point and one at the destination, allowed travel between them. When Sargeras' attempt to enter Azeroth using this portal failed, he had invented an artifact, a jeweled scepter of incalculable power. The scepter not only contained within itself infinite portals, it also was tied to the Great Dark Beyond in such a way that all of reality—or any part of reality—could briefly serve as its destination.

Kil'jaeden was now in possession of this scepter.

Alythess explained that the scepter needed to be 'charged' with fire energy in order to transport Kil'jaeden. The more fire Alythess sent to the Scepter, the more successful the portal would be, and the more powerful Kil'jaeden would be when he arrived.

"Let me make sure I understand what is needed here," he said when Alythess had stopped talking. "You need a way to extract the energy from the girl, a method for collecting the energy when she releases it, and a way of converting the Sunwell's arcane energy to fire? Is that correct? Have I missed anything?"

Alythess turned her back to him and walked away without answering, and he followed.

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When they arrived in the Serenity Chamber, Alythess gave Sathrovarr her report. Although Kael's understanding of conversational Eredun was barely rudimentary—probably something he should remedy with Selin in his free time—he didn't need to follow Alythess' words to understand what she was saying. Her tone of voice, frequent disdainful glances, and scornful gestures communicated very clearly.

"I see." Sathrovarr looked delighted.

With a final glare, Alythess stalked away.

"The Grand Warlock tells me that you are contemptibly tender-hearted," Sathrovarr said, "but I already knew that."

"I placed the girl in a protective shield," Kael said, "to prevent further damage to her."

"Yes," Sathrovarr said. "You are reckless, Prince Kael'thas. Alythess and Sacrolash have long memories."

Kael wondered how long the shock barrier around Anveena would last.

"However," Sathrovarr continued, "in Alythess' opinion, you are knowledgeable enough regarding magical theory that your suggestions might have merit."

This statement gave Kael a thrill of accomplishment… which was dangerous. It would be far too easy to become so swept up in this intricate magical puzzle that he forgot that solving it could lead to the end of the world.

"I do have some initial thoughts," Kael began, "about three elements required for the summoning."

Sathrovarr waved a hand. "I am unconcerned with the details."

"Your 'unconcern' while your eredar were torturing her," Kael said, suddenly irritated, "could have led to her death." Why had Sathrovarr been put in charge, when his behavior was little different than that of a lazy, pompous Silvermoon noble? Did the Legion value cruelty over competence?

"Doubtful," Sathrovarr said. "Sacrolash and Alythess are far more skillful at persuasion than I."

"I won't bore you with the details," Kael said, "except to insist that you allow me to put a method in place for capturing and storing the arcane energy Anveena will release before you mesmerize her."

Sathrovarr made an annoyed noise and waved his hand. "Why do you feel you can dictate to me?"

"Energy that is lost cannot be channeled to the Scepter," Kael offered, and the ember in his mind glowed a little brighter. "It will take time to find a suitable crystalline matrix," he said, trying not to let his thoughts fly too far ahead of his words. "For that I will need reference books and a research assistant. I can make use of Selin, if you have no other use for him. He is obedient, and a passable translator."

Sathrovarr clenched his fist. "You begin to bore me."

Kael, who had thought that this comment was addressed to him, was startled when what he had taken for a pile of rubble against one wall twitched. Kalecgos. His eyes were closed, but Kael had a hunch that he was awake.

"Tell me, Prince Kael'thas," Sathrovarr asked, "did you see anything unusual on your walk over here today?"

Kalecgos, no longer pretending to be asleep, was staring at Kael intently. Was he cautioning silence, or eager for news?

"I saw a dragon," Kael said. "A Blue. It was flying very high."

"Ah." Sathrovarr sounded inordinately pleased. "Perfect. At last, the quarry is sighted." He followed this puzzling statement by saying, "Selin and the books can be provided. You said you had thoughts about three elements of the summoning. Is there a fourth?"

So the dreadlord had been paying attention after all. "The final step will be channeling the converted energy to Kil'jaeden and the Scepter," Kael replied. "I leave that in Grand Warlock Alythess' capable hands."

"How strange," Sathrovarr said. "She said found you unforgivably disrespectful."

.

An idea, like a phoenix, has more than one birth. Not just because it may come around to us again and again, but also because the true moment of its birth is unclear. Is it born at the instant it bursts forth and soars? Or when it first begins to form among the ashes?

Within hours, Selin had arrived with a stack of books and papers that had been collected from all over Quel'Danas; a short while later, Delrissa and various ethereals dropped off more, and took Kael's requests for key reference works.

"None of this is of any use," Kael said as he rifled through a stack of rain-blurred journals. "If only I had access to my old library in Dalaran. Or even the library in Silvermoon."

"We've been forbidden from leaving Quel'Danas," Selin said. "I should have brought it to you earlier."

Kael set aside the journals and opened a large, deteriorating leather tome. "Brought what?"

"Sarannis' gift."

Kael turned to Selin. "Gift? What gift?"

"A pure white hawkstrider," Selin said. "She was raising it in secret for you ever since it hatched. She said it was so rare that she had to go back more than a hundred generations in the livery records to find another."

Kael felt a churn of emotion. His father had had a white feather in his memory coffer. Kael's mother had told him that it was from the mount Anasterian had ridden as a child, but Kael had thought she was being fanciful. Everyone knew that there was no such thing as a white hawkstrider...

"Sarannis said it was for when you would ride among our people again," Selin said. He stared at a long, segmented insect that had crawled out of one of the stacks of books, then reached out to crush it. "I am a god," he whispered.

"It doesn't matter," Kael said. "Our people have no desire to see me again." He paged quickly through the leather tome, which was titled L'yasula ir'Bacathi—Perfection in Blind Hatred—then set it aside.

Selin looked at him blankly. "Why not? You are a Sunstrider. The king's son."

"That doesn't matter to them," Kael said. "They have decided that I failed them." Battling through the Scourge at the Thalassian Gate. The mangled bodies at The Sanctuary. Fighting their way north through southern Eversong. Clearing Suncrown and Goldenmist villages. Extinguishing the corrupted Sunwell. Groveling before Garithos. Nearly dying in Dalaran's prison. Allying with Illidan against Arthas. Finding the fortress. None of that mattered; only that he had struck a deal with Kil'jaeden.

Selin looked up, then sheepishly drew something from inside his tunic. "Here. I've been keeping it warm for you," he said as he handed it to Kael.

It was the tin with Al'ar's ashes. Appalled by the smell of Selin's burnt flesh—Scourge siege engines outside Silvermoon, hundreds of charred elven bodies—Kael took and opened it.

Nothing stirred in the glowing ash. It seemed the phoenix could not be reborn if its master no longer had a beating heart.

And yet… was he not still Kael'thas? The phoenix had come from his anger and spirit, his refusal to give up, his dedication to his people. That was why Al'ar, the phoenix god, had chosen to incarnate for him, and it was why Kil'jaeden had spent so much time showing Kael how much his people despised him. To make him weak. To cut him off from the source of his strength. Kil'jaeden thought that once Kael stopped thinking of himself as Prince of the Blood Elves, he would have no identity left but 'Servant of the Legion.'

Kil'jaeden was wrong, for he had forgotten the resilience of the phoenix.

"Thank you, Selin." Kael placed the tin with Al'ar's ashes between the wings atop the throne. It was time to stop berating himself thinking of those who had betrayed him, and of those who had used him. It was time to stir the ashes in his heart—and then, when he had lifted his wings in victory once again, both Kil'jaeden and the sin'dorei would see how very wrong they had been.

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.

_"Do not harbor false hope! You cannot win!"_

.

.

"I was thinking," Kael said to Selin, "it might be useful to gather together the newer Sunblades that have not received adequate training. Teach them what they need to know." Selin's instability was gradually becoming a hindrance: his concentration was rarely on the task at hand, and, more often than not, even the simplest of Kael's requests reduced him to a state of frozen perplexity.

Fortunately, that was not his reaction this time. "I could do that!" Selin flexed his shoulders, spreading his wings until the black feathers rustled. "Would they… could I call them my people?"

"Yes," Kael said. "They would be your people. Rule them well, King Fireheart."

"I will, my lord." Selin dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead against Kael's feet. "I will be strict, but merciful. And my kingdom will guard you with our lives."

It was a sobering moment.

Once Selin had gone, Kael moved the scrying orb from its place of ignominy behind the throne, then sat down with a book on the crystalline properties of conjured items. "I need to translate these runes," he said aloud, knowing that Sathrovarr would hear him. "Either have one of the winged crystals that surround the Sunwell brought to me, or allow me to examine the one on the Solar Terrace. Or let me talk to the dragon."

"The dragon is not available!" Sathrovarr snarled from the crimson swirls. "Disturb me again with trivial matters and I will flay the undead flesh from your bones!" The scrying orb went dark.

Kael smiled. According to Delrissa, the blue dragon had flown off earlier that day after being liberated by one of his flight. It sounded as though Sathrovarr had not yet recaptured him.

Not that Kael had expected to glean anything useful from Kalecgos anyhow, other than possibly verifying whether or not the runes on the winged crystal orbs—which must have been placed around the Sunwell between the time of Kael's visit with Rommath and the arrival of the demons on Quel'Danas—meant that the artifacts were Draconic. Kael supposed that Telestra could have translated the runes, but even if he still had a way to contact his former teacher, he knew he'd find it difficult to restrict the conversation to a trivial linguistic matter. It would be too tempting to confront her about Kirin Var, which would only lead to awkwardness and lies that he had no stomach for.

As it was, whether or not the runes or the orbs were Draconic was mostly a matter of satisfying his curiosity. Despite what he had told Sathrovarr, he was confident that he could use the crystal orbs to store Anveena's energy.

The mo'arg in the hallway ignored him as he walked past. It was a welcome change. Outside, Delrissa's troupe were stacking manacubes in the alcoves: at least Xevozz and the Zaxxis could be depended on. He continued through the Circle Garden and the halls, and then onto the Solar Terrace.

The orb's refractive properties were superb. It was beautifully crafted, with no tangible surface imperfections despite the occlusions in the crystal, and cool to the touch, despite being in full sunlight. Kael tried lifting it, but it it didn't budge; he then tried a series of increasingly powerful levitation spells, but either the orb was attached firmly to its heavy stand, or it had a surprisingly dense matrix, because not even a magnitude eight spell made the orb budge a hair. He channeled energy into it, but the crystal was strongly resistant—not surprising for such an unusual material. Interestingly enough, the small amount of power the orb did retain was easily siphoned back. "Extraordinary." He touched one of the golden wings; unlike the crystal orb, they did absorb the sunlight, and thus were almost painfully hot. Their surface had a strange tactile quality: porous, almost viscid. Since he had power left, he threw a levitation spell at the wings; to his surprise, they fluttered. Both stand and orb levitated at magnitude three, which suggested that the wings weren't for show. They had secrets of their own.

As a last test, he channeled at the wings. They drank up all the magic he threw at them; after a moment, the orb's color changed slightly, and Kael was able to siphon nearly all the energy back.

"Perfect," he whispered.

.

With Selin gone, Kael's research proceeded rapidly. Given the limited time and resources, he was even prouder of the scheme he'd concocted than he was of the artifacts and spells he had created during his centuries in Dalaran. It was a thing of beauty, the myriad details compacted into a tiny, innocuous procedure that gave as much indication of its potential as a bud does of its furled petals.

As it turned out, the spirit of the Phoenix God was watching over him, for by the time Sathrovarr summoned him to the Sunwell—or rather, by the time Alythess announced from the scrying orb that she was summoning him to the Sunwell—Kael knew that, as he had predicted, Kalecgos had been recaptured.

The walls surrounding the Sunwell had been enchanted with the glowing images of flames, which shed a disturbingly hellish light. Far over their heads, Anveena sat huddled in the arcane sphere, her arms wrapped around her knees.

"The Master grows impatient," Sathrovarr said, pacing back and forth. "We must begin the summoning. Have the preparations been made?"

"I am ready to channel fire energy to the Master's Scepter," Alythess said. She looked pointedly at Kael.

Kael ignored her. "Although I had no access to a Draconic reference, I was able to design containment and conversion methods that will take advantage of the winged crystal orbs in this room."

"As it happens," Sathrovarr said, motioning to his guards, "the Draconic reference is available."

Anveena stood, and, as the guards returned dragging Kalecgos' body, began to scream and pound on the walls of the arcane sphere as if it was a prison.

Sathrovarr shouted up to her, "You want to break free to cradle the body of your dead lover, don't you? To stroke his face one last time? To kiss his lips?"

Anveena pressed her hands against the shield, and nodded tearfully.

"Sleep now!" Sathrovarr commanded, raising his arms to display a sigil spinning in each palm.

Anveena's hands dropped to her sides; she bowed her head, and was silent.

"It will take some time to spin a sufficiently complex nightmare," Sathrovarr said to Kael as three eredar hurried onto the Sunwell platform and began to channel a shadowy spell up at Anveena. "The dragon is not dead, elf. Make use of him if you wish, but be quick about it." He gestured at Kalecgos; a skull-like sigil flashed across his face. "Here. I will awaken him for you, and add persuasion."

"Thank you, Lord Sathrovarr." Kael bowed. "It will not take long. Shall I place a shield so that his cries do not wake the girl?"

"An excellent suggestion," Sathrovarr said. "Proceed."

.

"What is this?" Kalecgos asked, opening his eyes as Sathrovarr's spell began to inflict pain.

Kael had surrounded himself and the dragon with a swirling, arcane-tinged hemisphere. Outside the dome, Sathrovarr, Alythess, Sacrolash, and the others moved like watery ghosts, while above the dome Anveena floated like a drowned corpse in her arcane sphere.

"The Grand Magister of my people taught this spell to me," Kael said. "None of those outside can hear or see us." Kael did not know whether or not Rommath's privacy dome was actually impervious to nathrezim magic, but it was prudent to assume that he was being overheard. "You escaped?"

Kalecgos winced and rolled onto his his side. "Briefly."

"Helped by the blue dragon I saw earlier?"

Kalecgos nodded. "One of my flight. Sent when I fell silent." He scowled as he weakly pushed himself up. "Know this, elf: if she does not return, Malygos will send more."

There were many questions Kael wanted to ask Kalecgos about Telestra's activities in Northrend, but it was not the time for that. "I have questions for you, dragon."

"I will not aid you." Kalecgos said. He tensed each time the curse stabbed at him.

"The information I seek has no impact on the summoning of Kil'jaeden."

"Words cannot hide your true allegiance."

"Then let my deeds convince you." Kael pointed up. "You have seen me protect her, as you do."

"I have heard how you speak of her." Kalecgos wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. "You are no different than the demons."

"If you see no difference, then you are a fool," Kael said. "What I do, what I have always done, I do for my people's sake." There was truth in this statement, even if Kalecgos would take it differently than it was meant.

"So say all kings," Kalecgos said, "from their palaces of gold."

"Do you see before you a king?" Kael snapped back. "And what of you, dragon? Let me guess what it is you want. You want to take Anveena far from here, even though the continued absence of the Sunwell is dooming my people to eventual extinction! Tell me, when you take the girl to your frozen domain, will you reshape her form into something more suitable for a dragon's mate?"

"How dare you presume to know what I want?" Kalecgos replied, but then looked away. "I know my duty, elf. Anveena's is a stolen life, as fleeting as the mayfly. We both know this. It matters not if her heart and mine beat as one."

"If you love each other, you must want to rescue her and flee."

"I cannot, and thus I rage. You would understand, if ever you had loved. "

"Oh, I have loved," Kael said. "More than once."

"More than once? Never truly, then." He glanced up. "What is that fiend doing to her?"

"I give you my word that I will tell you," Kael said, "if you answer my questions."

Kalecgos scowled. "Ask what you will."

"The winged orbs in this chamber. They were not here before you and Anveena entered our lands. Did you bring them?"

Kalecgos looked surprised by this. "Yes. We—that is, the Blue Dragonflight—wanted to understand why Korialstrasz of the Red Dragonflight had created Anveena."

"A red dragon? Why would they be involved?"

"Alexstraza's brood is always drawn by sorrow to places where many lives are being reaped."

"The cries of Quel'Thalas must have been deafening," Kael said bitterly. "Still, I would have thought that your flight would have been the ones to preserve the remnants of the Sunwell."

Kalecgos shuddered in pain. "It is true that we are caretakers of magic, but Malygos himself could not have created such a perfect semblance of life."

"And the orbs?" Kael prompted. "What is their purpose?"

"They can be used for scrying, but most often are for… taking control of an entity or artifact from a great distance." Kalecgos gasped, and clutched at his head.

"You were ordered to report on her? You didn't expect to fall in love." Obviously he had not; but then, who ever expected it? "You must regret that Malygos sent you here."

Kalec hesitated. "No. It was... necessary." There was genuine pain in his voice, and not from Sathrovarr's spell.

"What will happen to Anveena once she releases all the Sunwell energy she contains? How much of her will remain?"

"She does not 'contain' it, elf," Kalecgos said with clenched teeth. "She is the Sunwell. She is woven of magic." Kalecgos bowed his head for a moment, then said, "Without it she will cease to exist."

So the dragon knew at least some of the truth.

"And now keep your part of the bargain, elf," Kalecgos said. "The demon said he was spinning a nightmare around Anveena. What does that mean? Why is he doing it here?"

"Sathrovarr can draw from thoughts and emotions that one does not wish to think of. Things we secretly long for or fear, but are ashamed to admit to ourselves. The energy Anveena expends in her nightmare is being used to summon Kil'jaeden."

Kalecgos looked puzzled. "I do not see how Sathrovarr is able to ensnare Anveena, then. She is kind and honest and cheerful, and takes pleasure in all things. She has no shame."

"But she cares for you, and thus fears losing you. Perhaps her nightmare is seeing you dying in her arms; she has to expend her energy to heal you. Or she fears her fate, the oblivion of death. Her shame might be that she desires to live, even though it would doom others."

"Is that what the nathrezim spun for you? A nightmare?"

Kael was not expecting this question, but saw no harm in answering truthfully. "No, it was a vision of a woman named Jaina," he said after a moment. "A human. A princess. A sorceress. Incomparable in every way. She did not love me, but—" He smiled ruefully. "To use your words, my heart beat with hers, and so I raged. I have not allowed myself to think of her for many years, but because Anveena resembles Jaina as she looked when I first met her, my thoughts of Jaina were fresh. The… pain was fresh. Sathrovarr used that to create an illusion in which I was offered the chance to save her from the man who took her from me. A dangerous illusion," Kael said, "because even though I knew it wasn't real, I wanted to stay."

"If I wake Anveena, will it stop the summoning?"

"It might." And thus the fuse was lit.

"Then help me wake her now!" Kalecgos said. "Let us save this world!"

"Have you not seen how many demons now crowd this isle?" Kael asked. "If, by some miracle, you manage to escape, the Legion will simply find another way to charge the Scepter and summon Kil'jaeden." Kael doubted this—apart from the Sunwell, there was no comparable concentration of magical energy anywhere in the world—but that wasn't the point. Stopping the summoning wasn't his goal; delaying Anveena's awakening until after Kil'jaeden had arrived was. "Kil'jaeden will seek revenge for having been denied, and will hunt you for eternity. He has already chased one who stole from him for twenty millennia. And you see what he has done to me. Should I tell you the punishments I have endured?"

"So I can do nothing?"

"Not unless Azeroth's swaggering heroes arrive and distract the demons long enough for you to wake her without interference."

"Why tell me this, elf?" Kalecgos said, struggling not to be overwhelmed by the agony that must be coursing through him. "For what reward?"

To hear Kil'jaeden's roar as he realized what Kael had done. To see the chagrin and remorse on Rommath and Lor'themar's faces when they heard of what he had accomplished. Because if Arthas burned, Jaina would burn as well.

Of course, there was nothing to be gained by telling the dragon any of this. "Because you love her."

.

"I have the confirmation I wished for," Kael told Sathrovarr as he dismissed the privacy barrier. He began to trace a conversion rune on the floor beneath the first orb.

"Why did it take so long?" Sathrovarr asked. He eyed the groaning half-elf.

"I wanted to make it possible for you to feast on him," Kael said, moving to the second orb. "I have stirred the dragon's hidden shame. His sense of duty and loyalty cause him to suppress his disapproval of the commands of his patriarch."

"I have never tasted dragon before," Sathrovarr said. "It promises to be exquisite."

Kael finished the fourth rune. All four orbs began to glow dimly. "Alythess? The Scepter, if you will?"

Alythess conjured an image of a staff high above the center of the Sunwell. The impression was of something ancient and ornate, but it was impossible to focus on anything but the dark gem it contained. As Kael murmured an incantation, feathery swirling tendrils of fire snaked from beneath the orbs to the outer ring of the Sunwell and rose upward into the Scepter. After a moment both the Scepter and the lines of fire gradually faded from view.

"There," Kael said. "As the girl expends energy, it will be collected in the orbs, converted to fire, and fed to the Scepter. Once the flow of energy stops, the Master will come through."

"How long will it take?" Alythess asked.

"Who can say?" Especially since he had created the spell in such a way that only one part in twenty would be converted to fire; the remainder would be set aside, hidden in the dragon orbs.

Sathrovarr studied Kalecgos. "I will entertain myself in the interim."

"There is a spacious elevated plaza near the entrance," Kael suggested. Putting Kalecgos near the entrance would ensure that he would be freed in a timely fashion, but it would also delay his arrival at the site of the summoning… and the more energy Anveena lost before she awoke, the stronger her awakening would be.

"An excellent suggestion." Sathrovarr gestured to his guards.

"No," Kalecgos gasped as they took hold of him. "Kael'thas, why? I told you what you wanted to know! I trusted you, elf! I told you the truth!" It was such a convincing display that even Kael was taken aback.

Sathrovarr laughed. "The truth? When has the truth ever accomplished anything? All the truth does is make you weak and vulnerable."

"He only wants to stay because he thinks he can free the girl," Kael added.

Sathrovarr turned to Kael. "Yes, I heard. And so do you. Did you think you could hide your plotting behind such a feeble shield?"

Kael had anticipated this. He had been careful in his conversation with Kalecgos: had he been careful enough? "I thought it would please you," he said. "To give him false hope, and then dash it away."

"Nevertheless, it is time for you to go, Prince Kael'thas."

"I prefer to stay," Kael said, "to ensure that nothing goes awry."

"No need," Alythess said, using green fire to draw a replica of the rune Kael had used, and then repeating the conversion incantation perfectly. "Quaint, inefficient spells, but they will serve us well enough."

"Return to your little palace on the hill," Sathrovarr said. "Once the Master arrives, I am certain you will be suitably rewarded."

As much as he wanted to see everything unfold, further protest would accomplish nothing but fanning Sathrovarr and Alythess' suspicions.

He needed to have faith in his plan and his magic, and let his enemies think that he was so pathetic that he would allow himself to be used and cast away like a useless thing.

Turning his back on the portal that Alythess was casting for him, he teleported to the Entrance of the Magisters' Terrace.

.

Reluctant to consign himself immediately to the confinement of the Grand Magister's Asylum, he decided to spend a few minutes drinking in the sun and feeling the sea breeze.

A ship was sailing into the harbor. Beyond it, the masts of two more broke the haze on the horizon.

Kael squinted. There were figures were on the furthest dock, moving between the ship and the small round building north of the sanctum. Unloading crates? None of them appeared to be demons. Were the people down there sailors, completely unaware of the invasion Quel'Danas? Or were they the beginning of a counter-invasion force? Had Silvermoon finally noticed the demons? Did they know Kael was here?

He glanced to his left, down the hill toward the Sunwell edifice. The harbour and most of the Sun's Reach area could not be seen from Dawning Square or the upper terraces of the Sunwell.

He must prepare.

.

Kael entered the Terrace and stood on the walkway until Delrissa came into view in the garden below. "Ready your strongest fighters," he called down to her.

She nodded.

He proceeded to the Assembly Chamber and stood for a moment in the shadows by the door, watching Selin teaching thirty or so Sunblades how to siphon from fel crystals.

"Take your destiny into your own hands," Selin was saying. "Learn to reach out and take what you need, and you will never feel powerless ever again." He noticed Kael, and nodded.

The students turned to see who Selin had acknowledged. Some looked shocked, even horrified by Kael's appearance; others looked away uneasily.

"It has begun," Kael told Selin.

Selin didn't ask him to clarify. "First line of defense. We will stand firm."

"Good." Kael ascended the stairs of the lecture platform, wondering if Selin would do anything as he walked by, bow or clasp his hand, but he did not.

As Kael exited the Assembly Chamber into the hallway, he heard the students behind him. A few asked, "Who was that?" while another said, "Did fel power really do that?"

"There are always risks," Selin told them. "Power is never free."

.

Unlike Selin's students, the arcanists and arcane researchers knew and respected Kael.

They gathered around as he approached. "What is happening, my lord?"

"We might be about to come under attack," he told them. "Do whatever you can to defend yourselves."

"We can teleport in some arcane guardians from Silvermoon," one suggested.

"Take a few from the demons," someone else said, paging through a small spellbook. "They have enough that they won't miss them."

"I have a friend who works at Coruu," another said. "He was telling me about the elementals at Ultris. Let's try to summon an arcane one."

"I don't know," said a third. "It's hard enough to get a water elemental to do what you want. They're always splashing off on their own."

"What do you think we should do?" the arcanist who had suggested golems asked Kael.

"Trust your instincts," Kael said. "Whatever you bring in to defend us is no good if it runs amuck and kills you." He left them to their discussion and continued through the halls and out onto the Solar Terrace.

He considered the winged orb. Kalecgos had said that the dragons used the orbs for scrying, but despite several attempts Kael had never been able to get it to respond to him.

He tried once again, but once again was disappointed.

There was a flash of white at the edge of his vision. He stepped closer to the edge of the terrace and looked down.

Directly below, the tops of goldenbough trees swayed in the breezes coming in off the sea. To his right were the upper walkways of the Sunwell—walkways now patrolled by demons. To his left, the view of the shoreline was blocked by a grassy ledge. Kael started to turn away, thinking that the flash of white must have been a trick of the light, sunlight reflecting off the sea, when a riderless, unsaddled hawkstrider loped into view. It was pure white, a mount fit for a king. It lifted its head to survey for danger, then fluttered its wings and pecked at something in the grass.

Kael felt a strange twisting in his chest, a momentary urge to leap over the railing and ride the hawkstrider over the sea. Away from this place, away from rejection and demons and death and infamy—but then he blinked, and the hawkstrider was gone.

He was startled by a touch on his arm.

It was Delrissa. "I have gathered my forces," she said. "What is the threat?"

"I'm not certain," he admitted. "There is activity in the harbor. Non-demonic activity."

"Ah," she said. "Your enemies have arrived."

"It seems so."

"Come," she said, taking his arm. "I will walk with you."

The Sunstrider statues in the hallways were still adorned with three green lights that represented the trio of verdant spheres Kael had once commanded.

"I'm surprised that Rommath hasn't taken these down," he said bitterly.

"Perhaps he has other concerns," Delrissa said.

Kael glanced up at her. He had never quite figured out the shivarra's allegiance. Illidan claimed that the shivarra were loyal to him because he had freed them from the Legion, yet had Delrissa not done Kil'jaeden's bidding by resurrecting Kael countless times?

"Or perhaps," she said, as if reading his thoughts, "some wish to remember you as you were."

.

His room seemed drab and the air stale after the color and breezes of the garden, but this could have been due to his impatience to see his plan at work, to know how it would turn out.

It was, if he said so himself, a scheme as bold as it was brilliant. Anveena, on some level, was no different than any other conjured item: draining her energy would eventually reduce her to nothing. Kael's readings in conjuration, however, had suggested that a creation as complex as Anveena might become unstable unless the draining proceeded slowly and steadily. Interruptions—such as being wakened from her nightmare—could create fluctuations, and then a cascade effect as the arcane energy sought to return to its source. Whatever magic remained in Anveena at that point would be supplemented by what Kael's spells had clandestinely hidden in the dragon orbs; the resulting surge would smash into the Scepter and its wielder.

Telestra had been right after all. Sometimes a pawn could take out the most powerful piece on the board.

He went to the scrying orb, and after a moment was able to bring up a ruddy vision of the Sunwell. Sathrovarr, Sacrolash and Alythess were gone. All that remained were the three eredar, channeling their shadowy spell up at Anveena.

He sighed, exasperated, and his eye fell on the container of ash.

He opened it. Was it his imagination? Had the contents shifted and cooled? He wanted to dig down, to see if perhaps an egg was forming, but stopped himself. Better not to know, then to find nothing.

He put the ashes back into their hiding place, and considered the translocation orb. Unlike most, which comprised linked pairs, this orb was one way; its destination was the small round building near the harbor.

What would he see if he went there? Would he find himself amidst ordinary citizens, or enemies?

He had to know.

He drained a mana cube, then cloaked himself in a glamour, using the appearance of a young arcane mage who had applied to the Kirin Tor not long before the Second War. Noteworthy only because he was one of the few initiates sponsored by Modera. Funny, how the details had stayed with him: reddish brown hair, small tidy beard. Absolutely hideous taste in clothing. Rather than dress as a mage, Kael conjured spellbreaker armor and weapons, and a red and yellow cloak to drape across his chest to disguise the protuberance of the fel crystal, which continued to resist any spell he had ever cast to hide or minimize it.

He dismissed his spheres, then tucked his mooncrystals next to the container of ashes. He didn't expect to be gone long.

There was, fortunately, no one in the receiving building. There was a banner on the wall—a golden helmet on a background of black—and crates of weapons, potions, and magical scrolls. He looked through them, trying to find some sign of who the offensive belonged to.

"What are you doing in here?" someone behind him asked sharply. "This area is reserved for the Shattered Sun commanders and quartermasters."

He recognized the voice. Seyla, his brother's widow. 

"I just arrived," Kael said as he turned, wondering if she would recognize him. "I was waiting to be assigned."

Seyla had still been a priest the last time Kael had seen her, when she had talked of the screaming of the naaru, but now she was dressed as a magistrix. With her was a blue-skinned eredar dressed in elaborate silver and violet plate armor. "Repair the wards," the eredar said. Her voice was low and musical; she was not a demon.

"Yes," Seyla said, "The sooner we can secure the sanctum, the sooner the Shattered Sun can put an end to Kael'thas and his madness." The hatred in her eyes and voice made Kael's insides churn.

He gave a curt bow and hurried out, then found a spot out of sight and teleported himself back to the Terrace.

So they were coming for him at last.

He had a moment when he wished that he could tell Seyla what he had done, but he knew that it would have accomplished nothing. If she believed him—which in itself was very unlikely—she would tell the others, and they in turn would spare him, and that would raise suspicions among the demons. Not with Sathrovarr, of course; the dreadlord didn't know enough about magic to understand Kael's plan even if it had been explained to him step by step. But Sathrovarr's master, the consummate strategist and tactician… he was magnitudes above, in intelligence, in cunning. He was the true adversary. He would grasp the plan at once.

So no, Kael couldn't confide in Seyla or the Shattered Sun. He must play the part as long as possible. Put on a good show, in case someone was watching or listening. Trust in his magic, and in Kalecgos' determination.

He dismissed the glamour and sat down to wait.

He hoped that they would remember to cut off his head.

.

.

_~ The End ~_

.

.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

* * *

.

.

_"No! the powers of the Sunwell turn against me! What have you done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"_

.

.

From his earliest days it was there, his most constant companion, his beloved. He had a faint memory—or perhaps it was not even a memory, but a fantasy he had spun to fill the space where a memory once had been—of drowsily fighting to stay awake, hour upon hour, so that he could continue to watch the warm golden light of the candle on his bedside table. No shadows had been cast upon the walls of his room in this memory—or if they had been, he had chosen not to remember them. When the candle flame was still, he had imagined that it was singing to him; when it flickered, he had imagined that it was dancing.

As for the candle itself… it was true that, bit by bit, hour by hour, it was being consumed—but while it burned, oh! It gave such a glorious light.

.

.

.

_small >first post 15 January 2017; rev 17 Jan 2017_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to **Bryn** for being a champion among betas the past two years; to **Mipeltaja** for tolerating nearly three years'-worth of drive-by brainstorming and idea tossing; and to **Stinger,** for fresh perspectives and consistent encouragement. However, as always, I am the last one to futz with a chapter; any lurking errors or typos (in this or any other chapter) are due to my stealthy post-posting editing.
> 
> * * *


	21. Appendix: List of Characters and Author's Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A list of all canon and original characters appearing in the novel.
> 
> Update (2 April 2017): This chapter now includes an edited version of the Author's Notes posted on Dreamwidth.

* * *

# List of Characters

* * *

In order of appearance (or first mention).

 

**Canon characters who appear**

  * Kael'thas Sunstrider
  * Eldin Sunstrider *
  * Anasterian Sunstrider
  * Thalorien Dawnseeker
  * Lana'thel
  * Master Engineer Telonicus
  * Dar'khan Drathir
  * Voren'thal the Seer
  * Magistrix Seyla
  * Kaendris
  * Jurion
  * Lor'themar Theron
  * Selin Fireheart
  * Grand Magus Telestra
  * Aegwynn
  * Antonidas
  * Krasus | Korialstrasz
  * Grand Magister Rommath
  * Astalor Bloodsworn
  * Prince Valanar
  * Prince Keleseth
  * Prince Theraldis
  * Tenris Mirkblood
  * Pathaleon the Calculator
  * Prince Sandoval
  * Archmage Modera
  * Prince Taldaram
  * Jaina Proudmoore

| 

  * Arthas Menethil
  * Ansirem Runeweaver
  * Mehlar Dawnblade
  * Prince Atherann
  * Vanthryn the Merciless
  * Earthmender Govrum
  * Garithos
  * Drenden
  * Jailor Kassan
  * Luthion the Vile
  * Ennas
  * Lady Malande
  * High Nethermancer Zerevor
  * Blood Lord Vorath
  * High Priest Andorath
  * Prince Navarius
  * Gathios the Shatterer
  * Veras Darkshadow
  * High Botanist Freywinn
  * Commander Sarannis
  * High Astromancer Solarian
  * Warden Mellichar
  * Halduron Brightwing
  * Grand Astromancer Capernian
  * Sgt. Saxon **
  * Tae'thelan Bloodwatcher
  * Belloc Brightblade
  * Lt. Swift **
  * Maiev Shadowsong
  * Tyrande Whisperwind

| 

  * Illidan Stormrage
  * Malfurion Stormrage
  * Kil'jaeden the Deceiver
  * Priestess Delrissa
  * Lady Vashj
  * Lt. Tierney **
  * Al'ar
  * Magtheridon
  * Akama
  * Leotheras the Blind
  * Varedis Felsoul
  * Anub'arak ***
  * Anveena
  * Kalec | Kalecgos
  * Arcanist Savan
  * Dathris Sunstriker
  * Mother Shahraz
  * M'uru ***
  * Master Daelis Dawnstrike
  * Sironas
  * Spellbinder Maryana
  * Xevozz
  * Lord Sanguinar
  * Naberius
  * Archmage Vargoth
  * A'dal
  * Sathrovarr the Corruptor
  * Lady Sacrolash
  * Grand Warlock Alythess
  * Vindicator Xayann

  
---|---|---  
  
 

**Canon characters who are mentioned but do not appear  
**

  * Dath'remar Sunstrider
  * Alodi, The Spearhead
  * King Terenas
  * Doomhammer
  * Zul'jin
  * Sylvanas Windrunner
  * Nathanos Marris
  * Kel'Thuzad
  * Sathera
  * Medivh
  * Khadgar
  * Prince Nallorath
  * Uther Lightbringer
  * Vexallus

| 

  * Gavinrad
  * Ballador
  * Sage Truthbearer
  * Saidan Dathrohan
  * Runewarder Deryn
  * Vandril
  * Teron Gorefiend
  * Baron Silverlaine
  * Queen Azshara
  * Sargeras
  * Archimonde the Defiler
  * Belo'vir
  * Zandras
  * Vagath

| 

  * Renthar Hawkspear
  * Aurora Skycaller
  * Maltrake
  * Malygos
  * Sapphiron ***
  * Ravandwyr
  * Sharth Voldoun
  * Blood Knight Argaron
  * Captain Arathyn
  * Dranarus
  * Larissa Sunstrike
  * Arcanist Thelis
  * Madrigosa ***
  * Brutallus ***
  * Aethas Sunreaver ***

  
---|---|---  
  
 

**Original characters  
**

  * Vranesh the Elder
  * Gimnar
  * Magus Ramalket
  * Nima
  * Celinar
  * Sol'thana
  * Exemplar Vantia
  * Exemplar Pryndou

| 

  * Hanariel
  * Felesaria
  * Skorgrim
  * William
  * Amelia
  * Kreig Tayus
  * Sonia Tayus

| 

  * Voldranus
  * Salandriel Sunblaze
  * Erellion Sunblaze
  * Taran Dawnstrike
  * Nilo Dawnstrike
  * Loistavat Siteet
  * Wind Trader Kajastus

  
---|---|---  
  
 

    * semi-canonical; it is possible to get an NPC with this name in WC3, though they're not identified as a sibling of Kael's  
  ** unnamed NPCs in WC3, though they did have lines  
*** not referred to by name

Random fact: I accumulated 46G of videos and 650 screenshots on my hard drive as research for this novel.

 

* * *

# Author's Notes

* * *

**Note that the Author's Notes contain chapter spoilers!**

**The genesis of the story:** This is one of the very few stories/characterizations that had a very precise genesis for me. ~ Back in 2007, flying through Burning Crusade quests to get my Black Temple attunement, the Warden's Cage scene between Akama and Illidan in Shadowmoon Valley made a deep impression on me. (For those not familiar, the scene appears in connection with the quest ["The Secret Compromised" ](http://wow.gamepedia.com/Quest:The_Secret_Compromised) which you get in Serpentshrine Cavern from a broken NPC named Seer Olum. I'll replicate a portion of it here)

> _Akama says: But, sire! You have misjudged my actions... I do have knowledge of someone close to you who plans to betray you. It is that dog, Kael'thas! He has allied with Kil'jaeden and intends to replace you as Lord of Outland!_  
>  Illidan's Presence says: I do not sense lies in your voice, Akama. That Kael'thas would betray me does not come as a big surprise - I'm not as oblivious as some would think. That one of your own was involved with him puts your loyalties into question.  
>  Illidan's Presence says: Send your Ashtongue into Tempest Keep and slay his most prized possession, the phoenix known as Al'ar. I must know that you're not on his side. Do not think of betraying me, Broken. We both know who owns your soul!

This formed my initial perception of Kael and Illidan as mutually distrustful, even contemptuous, of each other, even though their direct interactions seem cordial.  
  
**Source material:** The **Warcraft games** are the source and foundation for a majority of WoW's **lore**. _Deceiver_ draws most heavily on _Warcraft III_ and the second expansion (called "Burning Crusade" and abbreviated BC) to World of Warcraft. If you don't want to download and play Warcraft III (now free through Battle.net), I recommend searching Youtube for WC3 cinematics and cutscenes (if for no other reason than its terrific voice work). _Warcraft III: Reign of Chaos_ has just under five hours of material (the "pre-WoW movie" by Scrotus Maximus I used is 4:48:12), and _Warcraft III: The Frozen Throne_ has just under four (3:52:26).  For those unable to access YouTube, I'll note which chapters of each campaign were the most relevant to each chapter of the story.  
  
**Overall Structure:** The story is set in Magister's Terrace. Each chapter opens with a combat emote from Selin Fireheart, Vexallus, Priestess Delrissa, Kael or Kil'jaeden, and provides a jumping off point—first for undead Wretched Kael's acidic commentary to the "heroes" (i.e., the reader) battling their way through the dungeon to kill him, and then for the extended flashback that makes up the remainder of each chapter.

* * *

Prologue/Chapter 1: Kael leaves Quel'Thalas to study in Dalaran

  * Source: BC quest text, especially Shattered Sun / Isle of Quel'Danas
  * NPC Count: 8
  * OC count: none
  * I don't have much to say about the **Prologue** itself. Given the themes of betrayal in the narrative, I wanted the initial publish date for the story to be the Ides of March. Granted, the 300 or so words had to wait 2 years before they had company, but that wasn't my initial intent
  * For much of the flashback material in Chapter 1 I am very indebted to **Wanda von dunyav,** who both shared her own long-pondered thoughts about the Sunstriders under Anasterian as well as tossed ideas around in chat for hours. She is one in a very short line of fandom friends who I cherish with all my heart.
  * **Eldin Sunstrider** is a randomly- generated battlemage name in _WC3: TFT_ , but taking him as canonical so thay I could give Kael a brother to converse with was too enticing to pass up. (And hey, so what if MN shot the idea down by saying in BotH that Kael was Anasterian's only son? I'm going to pretend he meant to say that at that point Kael was Anasterian's "only _surviving_ son.")
  * I decided that the royal palace (Sunstrider Spire) was in the western half of Silvermoon that has not yet been rebuilt.
  * The Dungeon Journal says that **Telestra** is "rumored" to have taught Kael; this seemed an interesting avenue to wander down.
  * The haughty Champion Vranesh who currently rides around SMC was originally the one Selin was meant to serve, but as BotH mentions Vranesh as being "young" (and after I came up with my elf age calculator) I invented a Vranesh Senior.  
  




* * *

Chapter 2: Kael arrives in Dalaran

  * **Source:** _Warcraft Legends_ , vol 5 **  
**
  * **NPC Count:** 2 **  
**
  * **OC Count:** 2 **  
**
  * **Prince Nallorath** was the best friend of the half-elf Alodi, the first guardian.
  * I've decided to put **Kael's arrival in Dalaran** sometime during Aegwynn's time as Guardian. (The starting date date is either 1050 or 850 BCE, depending on which source you consult, and obviously went until Medivh awoke from his coma around 31 BCE.)
  * **Elf Ages:** Taking the description of Anasterian as "white haired" at 3000, and (somewhat arbitrarily) mapping that to a human age of 80 yields a conversion formula of (human age)*(38.5)  = quel'dorei age. ~ Thus human 16 is elf 616, 30 is 1155.   (For my purposes I decided that Kael was born @ 1100BCE,  bringing him to Dalaran during Aegwynn's tenure as Guardian at (16-17) and making him 29 (elf-1100) at the time of the First War.
  * And now, a small rant: The _Ultimate Visual Guide_ is supposed to be the canon **timeline** now [since superseded by _Chronicles,_ I guess], but when it moved up certain events related to the Third War by 4 years, it certainly borks a lot of things on the timeline I'd been piecing together since 2008. ~ For example, previous sources said **Archimonde** was summoned to Dalaran in year 25; this meshed nicely with Medivh being killed by Lothar and Khadgar in year 3 or 4 ( the First War having started in year 0) and Aegwynn taking 21 years to get enough power to rez Medivh in time for him to help out with the Battle for Mt. Hyjal. ~ Now, however, they’ve moved Archimonde trashing Dalaran to year 21. Obviously, the 17 year old, newly-arrived-in- Karazhan Khadgar didn’t kill Medivh immediately on his arrival! ~ (Happily, though, claiming that Aegwynn “only” had 17 years (instead of 21) to rebuild her power isn’t that bad of a revision.) ~ BOTTOM LINE: I wound up hammering out my own slightly smudgy version of the timeline for this story; in places where I felt on shaky ground, I tried to avoid stating precise intervals of time. Note that, prior to WoW, Medivh's coma was canonically either 6 years or 20 years. Aegwynn set his powers to awaken on his "maturity" (which is vague enough to cover anything from 12 to 21. A 20 year coma also seems excessive, unless there was a reason to have him awaken in middle age (perhaps the target was the "messiah age" of 33?)  
  




* * *

Chapter 3: Student of Telestra

  * **Source:** _Warcraft Legends_ **  
**
  * **NPC Count: 4  
**
  * **OC Count:** \-- **  
**
  * This chapter is headcanon and speculation heavy.
  * Canonically, Alodi was half-elf, but there's no information on his parentage.
  * There is no evidence that Kael and Aegwynn ever met, but I liked the idea.
  * There's also no evidence that Telestra and Aegwynn were acquainted, but with my headcanon of Telestra being Alodi's mother, it seemed reasonable to posit a friendship where they supported each other through the grief of losing a child.
  * Telestra and Anasterian is also headcanon.
  * EDIT Nov 2015: Originally this chapter went with the canonical detail that it was Anasterian who sent elves to Dalaran to teach magic to 100 humans (in exchange for Thoradin's assistance against the trolls). However, as I was working on chapter 15 and looking at my timeline, seeing that this event canonically took place in 2800 BCE -- when Anasterian was, what, only 200? -- and combined with his canonical isolationism, made me decide to headcanon that it was Anasterian's _father_ , the unnamed Sunstrider king who succeeded Dath'remar, who sent the elves to Dalaran. (It still fits in with the Telestra backstory: a young mage sent away because she spent too much time flirting with Prince Anasterian.) ~ Thus Anasterian became a prince in the anecdote Eldin tells Kael in this chapter, and rather than Kael's mother (who I headcanon as Second Consort) Anasterian becomes betrothed to Eldin's mother.   
  




* * *

Chapter 4: Eldin, Rommath, the Six, the Second War

  * **Source:** mostly gamepedia entries :p
  * **NPC Count:** 10
  * **OC Count:** \--
  * The idea that **Eldin** could have a hereditary disease was suggested by Wandavon.
  * I extrapolated Kael's canonical abjuration and enchantment skills into an involvement in the creation of the Eye of Dalaran.
  * Telestra's absence is headcanon, as is she and Aegwynn being subjected to the Kirin Tor equivalent of _[Damnatio memoriae](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Damnatio_memoriae)_
  * It is canonical that Kael was invited to join the Six around the time of the Second War, but thus far there's no information that I know f about who he replaced. I've worked out the changes in the roster as best I could [here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1FPstQ5QNGYn2m1qpIdqn8NOK1lq_dRmk7psJmyM%0A%0A2Bz0/edit?usp=sharing).
  * Although it's canon (or near) that Kael is on the **Council of Six** during the Second War (likely expelled when arrested by Garithos) there's no clear timeframe when he might have joined. I've headcanoned that he was invited not long after the death of Medivh.  
  




* * *

Chapter 5: Eldin, Jaina, Arthas

  * **Source:  
**
  * **NPC Count: 8  
**
  * **OC Count:** \--
  * At the time I wrote this chapter I still had not read the _Arthas_ novel (nor _Tides of War_ )
  * As far as I know, the idea that Kael's feelings for Jaina were entirely one-sided and unwelcome is an interpretation that comes primarily from the Arthas novel, despite Arthas' taunt in WC3 that he "stole" Jaina from Kael'thas.
  * Interesting tidbit: In WC3, Arthas (or Death Knight Arthas at least) is left-handed.  
  




* * *

Chapter 6: Kel'thuzad, the plague of undeath, and Jaina's departure

  * **Source:** Timeline and events from this point forward are based on the Undead campaign in _Warcraft III: Reign of Chaos,_   the Sentinel and Alliance campaigns in _Warcraft III: The Frozen Throne,_ the short story "Road to Damnation," and the novella _Blood of the Highborne._
  * **NPC Count: 5  
**
  * **OC Count:** \--
  * The "Dalaran is dying bits" came from the way Dalaran looked in WC3; it seemed a bit deserted and ghost-townish. Plus, it was a great irony - convince the elves to stay in Dal, which seems like a good idea because it might have saved a few when Arthas destroyed Silvermoon, but then a few days later Archimonde levels Dalaran.  
  




* * *

Chapter 7: Fighting the Scourge in Lordaeron

  * **Source:** see note on Ch. 6
  * **NPC Count:** 15 **  
**
  * **OC Count:** 1 (Nima the gnome)
  * The meetings about combating the plague and the Scourge are made up, as are all the speeches and the various details.
  * Arthas is considered Terenas’ sole **heir** since Calia’s fate is unknown (and idk if she could have inherited the throne anyhow).  
  




* * *

Chapter 8: The invasion of Quel'Thalas

  * **Source:** see note on Ch. 6
  * **NPC Count:** 28 **  
**
  * **OC Count:** 6
  * **The Sanctuary** (previously called The Haven, but changed due to _Dragon Age: Inquisition_ ) is my headcanon for the origin of Deatholme. It was based in part on the “elf village” that Arthas destroys at the beginning of the Undead campaign in WC3. The idea that the Scourged nerubians Arthas brought back from Northrend tunneled into Quel’Thalas was inspired by the proximity of Stratholme and Deatholme (on some maps they are north/south adjacent, and on others northwest/southeast), and by the presence of the Terrorweb tunnel from the banks of the Throndil into Plaguewood.
  * In _Blood of the Highborne_ **Halduron** fortuitously shows up at An'daroth just in time to save Lor'themar from the undead; Kael's conversation with Halduron near the end of this chapter is my personal headcanon for that serendipity.
  * **Calculating the number of undead at the Thalassian Gate:**   I set my character to "walk" and paced the gate: length, approximately 45 paces (calling this a foot; I'll switch to meters in a sec); width of the main corridor, 16-18 paces; depth of the alcoves, 16 paces. This makes the area approximately a circle, 45 feet in diameter, giving square footage of 1590. Subtracting a bit for the columns, I arrived at 1400 SF, which is 130 square meters. ~ After looking at the crowd density analysis at (http://www.gkstill.com/Support/crowd- density/CrowdDensity-1.html) I decided on a density of 1.5 undead per square meter (to account for the size of the aboms); this works out to 195 undead. I shaved a few more off that number to arrive at Pathaleon's 187.  
  




* * *

Chapter 9: Kael and his forces fight their way to Silvermoon

  * **Source:** see note on Ch. 6; a number of BC quests in the blood elf starting area were referenced as well.
  * **NPC Count:** 13 **  
**
  * **OC Count:** 2 (mentioned only)
  * **Runestones** : there are 4 canonically in WoW, but 5 in WC3. I've gone with 5 (assuming the 5th is to the east of Shan'dor, nearer the troll villages.)
  * I utterly reject the BotH detail that Kael took his good ol' time getting to Silvermoon (A _week?_ Seriously?), but because it is canon, and the formerly-canonical WC3 specified the amount of time that passed between Kel'thuzad's resurrection and the summoning of Archimonde/destruction of Dalaran, in order to make the timelines line up I had to knock Kael out four 4 days after having him head-canonically turn into a phoenix. (Because I try to match canon wherever I can, even if it makes me pull my hair out.)
  * BotH, once again my bane, has Liadrin exposit that **Deatholme** wasn't constructed until Arthas had been gone for years: I've ignored that detail.
  * I have an **anagram** program that I play around with. The names "Anasterian" and "Antonidas" have seven letters in common: if those letters are struck out from both names, all that's left are the letters   **e  r  a  o  d** , from which you can make quite a few words and phrases. (I love anagrams.)
  * Kael as phoenix (and burning the forest that became the Scorched Grove)  has been a key scene for this story almost since it was conceived, although originally "the burning of the forests of QT" was slated for the end of chapter _2._ Ha! _  
  
_



* * *

Chapter 10: Garithos oppresses the elves; Malfurion and Maiev pursue Illidan in Silverpine

  * **Source:** Although I used or paraphrased almost all of the relevant dialogue from WC3 (Sentinel campaign Chapter 6, 7 and Finale; Alliance Campaign chapter 1 and chapter 2) I did skip some of the optional content such as Kael retrieving his hidden caches of gold in order to hire mercenaries and the mountain giants.
  * **NPC Count:** 25 **  
**
  * **OC Count:** 5\. Garithos' lieutanants Saxon, Swift, and Tierny; Ambermill leaders Amelia and William
  * Before the use of the mooncrystals as the source of Kael's **verdant spheres** was canonized in _Blood of the Highborne_ (and before Rowling did horcruxes), I'd had the headcanon that the verdant spheres were related to the soul-gem like fel crystal prisons (e.g., in the Crystal Watch quest _Varedis Must Be Stopped!_ )  and that they contained bits of Dar'Khan's soul (inadvertently splintered on his death).
  * Kael and Garithos do have a few things in common, don't they? Fathers killed while the son was off fighting elsewhere, home being destroyed, being put in charge because no one else was left…
  * Just a reminder that this story is more **RPG-scale** than MMO scale in terms of geography.
  * **Location of the blood elf encampment** : Okay, so I really wanted to  nail down—at least in my head—a precise location for Kael's camp. When Kael first appears in WC3 he seems to be occupying a settlement (possibly an abandoned village) near enough to Dalaran that undead from the ruins are "hounding [his forces] day and night." He also mentions that they planned to retreat across the river (presumably in a south- westerly direction, away from Dalaran.) The River Arevass, although absent from WoW, was canonically near Pyrewood Village.  Since in WoW both Ambermill and Pyrewood remained untaken by the Scourge (and perhaps their inhabitants would have been grateful for Kael's protection), in the end, my headcanon is that he might have been in Ambermill (perhaps even helped them set up their shields?) ` I didn't want to pin down an exact location, but in my head I was pretty much picturing the layout of the Ivar Patch and the geography of Olsen's Farthing in roughly the place where the Forsaken Front is now.  Another reason for putting Kael's base @ Ambermill: although Tyrande, Maiev and Malfurion are shown making landfall further north — almost directly west of the center of Lordamere Lake — it seems reasonable to me that they all would head southeast from there as Maiev tracked Illidan toward Dalaran (which does allow them to run into Kael somewhere around the Ambermill area)
  * The NE camp shown in WC3 is NE of Dalaran.
  * **How many survivors?** The information I found said that of the pre-Scourge high elf population, 90% were killed by Arthas. 90% of survivors became blood elves; 10% stayed high elves. Of the blood elves, 15% went to outland with Kael, 85% stayed behind to rebuild SMC and QT. ~ Now, Wowwiki says that there are 25,000 "true" high elves left (no source cited), but working backwards from that gives an initial population of 2.5 million high elves… meaning that 33,000 elves went to Outland with Kael. This seems a bit much to me. ~ I have a feeling that, in much the same way that the RPG distances and travel times are much greater than the MMO distances and travel times, so the population numbers might also be off by an order of magnitude (or even 2). For example, positing 2500 remaining high elves (instead of 25,000) from an initial population of a quarter-million leads to  @19K elves in SMC/QT post-Scourge, and a bit over 3K going to Outland with Kael.
  * Note: Antherann, Andorath, and Theraldis would later be the three San'layn to resurrect Arugal.
  * Almost every early version of this chapter involved Krasus (in disguise, as he was in the Sunwell manga) but what the plot would have required him to do didn't jibe with the characterization he's had so far developed in the story, so that idea was scrapped.
  * Timing once again; it took Jaina and thrall months to go from EK to Kalim, but Illidan only 3 days to go from Kalimdor to EK?  I guess Thrall and Jaina were sailing against the current… or else Illidan used magic. (Considering that Maiev was chasing him, I'll go with the magic theory.)
  * Finding info on sword repair was tough. What's in the story is the result of my understanding of forge-welding as based on  this [reference material](http://www.abana.org/downloads/controlled_hand_forging/CHF_10.pdf) ,  and watching [youtube videos such as Denis Frechette's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0F9EXiOV7yo), and some quick correspondence with people from blacksmithing forums. Because I then also tossed in a smidge of creative license, any errors or implausibilities of blacksmithing theory or practice are mine.
  * As noted above, as much as possible I drew upon the dialog from WC3's Sentinel and Alliance campaigns for the interactions between Kael and the night elves.
  * **WINDRUNNER SPIRE AND THE DEATH OF SYLVANAS** : According to Golden’s novel, _War Crimes,_ Windrunner Spire was the “final stand” where Arthas killed Sylvanas.~ I am choosing to bypass this canon for two reasons: 1) First off, WC3 has the final stand  between Arthas and Sylvanas taking place on the outskirts of Silvermoon. Granted, WC3 might no longer be considered canon, but as The Dead Scar suggests his path was pretty much straight north from Deatholme to the Sunwell, and given the geography of southern QT, I just can’t see Arthas making a detour to the Spire to kill her there. To me it's much easier to imagine Sylvanas and her contingent of her rangers coming over from the Spire to put themselves in Arthas' path to fight him, but I just don’t see it happening the other way around.  ~ 2) My guess as to why Golden had Arthas kill Sylvanas at the Spire was to explain why her necklace wound up there, but I think other explanations work just as well.  Considering that many of the banshees seem to have returned to their "home" at the Spire after Arthas left Quel'Thalas, I don't think my headcanon — that someone found the necklace on the path of the Dead Scar and took it back to the Spire as a sign of respect for who Sylvanas had been in life — is that much of a stretch.  
  




* * *

Chapter 11: Kael repairs Felo'melorn and accepts assistance from the naga

  * **Source:** see note on Ch. 6
  * **NPC Count:** 19 **  
**
  * **OC Count:** 1; Voldranus ( mentioned but not seen) **  
**
  * For the most part I used **WC3 dialogue** verbatim and unedited (occasionally tossed in some interstitial bits). The exception is the conversation between Vashj and Kael on their second meeting, where I took some of Kael's lines and gave them to Vashj, and overall condensed the exchange to avoid the use of the phrase "addicted to magic" which some have found problematic.
  * **Two feet as good as four**? In the previous chapter I did describe Tyrande's sabercat mount while mentioning that Maiev was on foot, mostly to underscore Maiev's badassery; however, I've avoided mentioning _mounts_ in this chapter because oddly enough, in WC3 few NPCs have them. (In the campaigns that provided material for these chapters only Malfurion and Tyrande have them; Maiev, Kael, and Illidan are on foot.)
  * I did sort of skip over the step of having **Malfurion** formally introduced to Kael (he was referred to only as "the archdruid" in the previous chapter) but I feel that most people reading this far would know who he is. (It is interesting to me that, as far as I can remember,  no NPC refers to him by name in the WC3 campaigns I'm reprising. Maiev calls him Shan'do; Illidan calls him brother; Tyrande calls him "beloved." Only the loading screens and dialogue labels tell us his name.)
  * There doesn't seem to be a clear cause in WC3 of why **Illidan's spell** goes poof: in WC3 Malfurion and the others appear on the terrace above Illidan after the Eye of Sargeras disappears. I theorize distraction leading to loss of concentration.
  * I added some material between the departure of Tyrande, Malfurion, Illidan and Maiev at the end of the Sentinel Campaign "Terror of the Tides" and the meeting between Garithos and Kael that opens the Alliance campaign "Curse of the Blood Elves."
  * The observatory repair in WC3 is accomplished by Generic Peasants: I substituted Telonicus
  * The elf metalsmith "Voldranus" that Kael and Telonicus reminisce about is named for the Italian volcano-god Adranus-Volcanus.
  * Kael is listed in WC3 as a blood mage. Everybody blood mage!
  * The emissary in WC3 (chapter "A Dark Covenant") who brings the orders that send Kael on the suicide mission uses the high elf appearance — eyes so blue they literally "smoke" — but curiously he does not have elf ears. I couldn't find a plausible way to work this in, but considering the later high elf vs. blood elf situation, there might be material to be mined.  
  




* * *

Chapter 12:  Jail, jailbreak, and the entry into Outland

  * **Source:** _WC3:The Frozen Throne,_ Alliance Campaign Chapter 3, "The Dungeons of Dalaran"
  * **NPC Count:** 23 **  
**
  * **OC Count:** \--
  * According to WC3, Kael spent 2 days in the dungeons.
  * For humans in the real world, death by deprivation of food and water usually takes 4-5 (but can take as long as 2 weeks; dehydration is the cause of death).  Hunger and thirst pangs cease after 24-72 hours (when the body begins to salvage what it can from its own tissues.)
  * In WC3 each freed 'lieutenant' apparently went to free other prisoners, since Vashj and Kael are generally seen fighting alone.
  * WC3 has a secret level during Kael's escape in which a generic **Engineer** offers to salvage Dalaran's defense towers, something that I gave  to Telonicus. (In WC3 building the towers unleashes Jindo, a level 15 Pandaren with over 5,000 HP and a squad of 20 pandaren (Kael at that point in the game is @level 10 with 1,200 HP).
  * Although the story has **Kassan** unarmed when he comes to parley, in WC3 he is carrying a large axe. (Kael's forces don't fight and kill him until later).
  * The naga's ability to **draw water through the earth** and into the prison from Lordamere Lake is meant to foreshadow Zangermarsh (and was also inspired by the spring in Stranglethorn Vale).
  * Most of the "official" materials I've seen refer to **Al'ar** as male (and Garuda is also male), but as there have been some entrancing arguments for the phoenix being female, I've tried to avoid specifying Al'ar's gender.



 

* * *

Chapter 13: Rescue Illidan from Maiev, fel magic, Magtheridon

  * **Source:** _WC3:The Frozen Throne,_ Alliance Campaign Chapter 4, "The Dusts of Outland"
  * **NPC Count:** 28 appearing; 4 additional mentioned **  
**
  * **OC Count:** \--
  * **Al'ar** While the source of many names in WoW have already been identified, Kael's phoenix apparently hasn't given up its secret.  _Alar_ is Spanish for "wing," but that's an overly literal name for a bird. I didn't have much success poking at other languages until a friend who knows Arabic told me that there's _al-'ar_ ( العار) , which means "shame, humiliation, or ignominy," and _al- ar_ (الأر), which simply means "land" (which to me, of course, could mean "the spirit of the land of Quel'Thalas").  ~ I realize, of course, that it's entirely possible that Al'ar is simply an anagram for a "Lara" somewhere, but I admit I like contemplating the extra meanings.
  * **Al'ar's feet:** I did find a mention somewhere that Al'ar has no feet and thus cannot land (or perch falcon-like, as in ch 12). Oops! Add to the list of small canon details I'm ignoring.
  * in WC3 Kael and Vashj "wander aimlessly" for **three days** and get lost, then just happen to come upon Maiev's camp just as Maiev and her warriors are returning with caged Illidan. I changed this a bit.
  * When Maiev appears at the end of the Sentinels campaign in WC3 and pursues Illidan into the portal he'd opened in Silverpine (t=2976), she has about a half-dozen **wardens** with her.
  * Kael doesn't actually kneel in WC3 when he pledges the elves to Illidan, but Illidan's command to "rise" doesn't make much sense otherwise.
  * The emerald **Eye of Jennala** was the first mooncrystal of the Key of the Three Moons, which controlled Ban'dinoriel.
  * So the whole **burning crystals** thing is sort of a jumble of head-scratchy bits that don't entirely make sense. We have what look like yellow-green fel crystals on Sunstrider Isle, which makes perfect sense at the beginning of BC 2.0. However, subsequent quest text and tweets assert these existed in that form (and were being fed by demonic energy!) prior to Arthas' rampage, which smacks to me of implicitly retconning Sunstrider association with the Legion prior to Outland. ~  Uh, how about no? Shall I say it again: FUCK NO.
  * Like the high elf eyes, I've made the **crystals** blue and arcane before the Scourge invasion, dark gray-violet while the Sunwell was polluted, and then had them slowly fading and dulling until they were recharged with fel energy from Outland… at which point they, like the blood elf eyes, turned green.
  * **Akama/Broken** : yet another thing I managed to shoehorn into the timeline. Info taken from the [BC Town Hall on the Draenei](http://wow.gamepedia.com/The_Burning_Crusade_Townhall/Draenei).
  * **Black Temple, Black Citadel, Hellfire Citadel** :  Like the burning crystals, YAM (Yet Another Mess™). The entire snarl is laid out [here](http://wow.gamepedia.com/Black_Citadel_and_Temple). I was happy to see that I'd arrived at the most common fan theory, which was that Black Citadel = Hellfire Citadel. As I personally didn't care for Blizzard's Because I Said So™ solution — _'Black Citadel was actually Black Temple all along, it was just moved to SMV and then an entirely new citadel built in its place to which Magtheridon's body was dragged'_ … Wait, what? — after lengthy discussions with Bryn and Mipeltaja I decided to keep the fan theory and claim that Magtheridon used both spaces — he was, after all the Lord of Outland — and that, after being defeated in his northern stronghold (and fel orc factory) in Hellfire Citadel (and chained in the basement), his southern stronghold in Shadowmoon at the former Temple of Karabor (aka Black Temple) was taken over by Illidan. This incorporates most of WC3 without any silly moving of entire buildings or draggings of entire pit lords.
  * The famous **"Merely a setback"** meme, often erroneously attributed to Kael'thas, actually came from Illidan: his first non-flashback line to Kil'jaeden in WC3 is _"Kil'jaeden! I was merely set back. I was attempting to bolster my forces. The Lich King will be destroyed, I promise you!"_ I edited it here slightly so as not to spoil that scene in the story with levity :p.
  * Illidan's love speech was partly inspired by [this quote](http://tmblr.co/Z2pJin1wX5rMH) I came across on the quotemadness tumblr: _"The way to love someone is to lightly run your finger over that person’s soul until you find a crack, and then gently pour your love into that crack."_ (attributed to Keith Miller)  
  




* * *

Chapter 14: Arthas and Northrend

  * **Source:** _WC3:The Frozen Throne,_ Scourge Campaign Chapter 8, "A Symphony of Frost and Flame"
  * **NPC Count:** 31 appearing; 13 additional mentioned **  
**
  * **OC Count:** 4 (Salandriel and Erellion Sunblaze; Nilo and Taran Dawnstrike)
  * " **Three hundred** of your people": I did some population number-crunching last year and came up with a total of 3,360 blood elves in Outland by the end of Burning Crusade (this would include both those who joined the Scryers as well as those who joined Kael's various forces in Outland and later on Quel'Danas.
  * Illidan's unnamed **students** would have included, at the very least, the night elf demon hunters Altruis, Alandien, Theras, and Netharel.
  * **Azeroth** can be seen from two places within the Black Temple raid instance: from Supremus' courtyard, and from the Temple Summit where the Illidan encounter takes place.  If what you see as you stand on Illidan's platform in Black Temple were really Azeroth, it would mean that Azeroth and Draenor are far closer than the earth is to the moon. Granted, having them relatively close does make it more plausible that Azeroth is the place that The Exodar crashes, but the two planets don't need to be within tossing distance of each other for that to have happened.
  * WC3 refers to Arthas' 'fleet' but isn't clear about how many **ships** he took to Northrend. He is not shown making landfall, but one other is at the dock when Arthas bids farewell to Kel'Thuzad In Lordaeron, so I went with two.
  * OBELISK THE TORMENTOR: In WC3, ASoFaF is the culmination of the Scourge campaign (and in fact of Warcraft III itself). You play as Arthas, and in that campaign your end goal is to reach Lich King Ner'zhul atop the Frozen Throne. To do so, you need to access the Throne Chamber at the base of the Throne by activating obelisks at the cardinal points of the compass. Illidan's forces are guarding/have activated two obelisks; you need to defeat Illidan's forces and control all 4 obelisks in order to win. ~ I've taken a slight liberty with this; instead of having Illidan's forces activate the obelisks they guard, I've just said that they try to keep Arthas from them.
  * I also invented a bit to explain how it is that Arthas/Ner'zhul knows how to activate the obelisks (but I feel it's plausible that Kel'Thuzad would have researched the topic for his master) -- oh and that line Kael quotes?  _Shi lok gu'ul enkil za'ar_... was derived from _Shi lok GUL enkilzar!_ which is _You are NOT prepared_! in Demonic.
  * Kael's speech was inspired by Shakespeare's  “The Feast of St Crispin” speech from Henry V, Act IV, Scene 3.
  * Arthas' first two lines to Kael are from WC3; the rest is invented, although it is canon that Arthas turned the blood elves that died in Icecrown Glacier into San'layn.
  * Death Knight King Arthas seems to have been extra-cruel to elves he killed (e.g, Sylvanas, the San'layn) so I don't think it's unreasonable to posit he was working out a bit of a personal vendetta.
  * In the video movie of WC3 that I used, the line "The third obelisk has been activated! Only one more remains! Riseup, my warriors!" actually occurs _before_ the fight with Kael, not after. Artistic license.
  * I drew upon avalanche survivor accounts for Kael's temporary snow burial.
  * Vorath, from the TCG, does shadow damage like every other San'layn caster; however, I thought it'd be fun to say that Vorath had a bit of an arcane mage toolkit, since we have a frost-mage BP (Keleseth), a fire-mage BP (Taldaram), a warlock BP (Navarius), and a shadow priest BP (Valanar).  (Technically Vorath is a Blood Lord and not a Blood Prince.)  
  




* * *

Chapter 15: The Aftermath of Northrend; Kael discovers Tempest Keep

  * **Source:** BC quests and the _Sunwell_ manga
  * **NPC Count: 20** appearing; 39 additional mentioned **  
**
  * **OC Count:** none!
  * Timelines are my bane, although it's partly a frustration of my own making. I like knowing the sequence and duration of events, so that when characters make offhand comments like "three weeks ago" I can feel it's reasonable accurate. ~ I can sometimes get around this by being vague about duration (the order of events is usually much easier to suss out, especially if there are dependencies. For example, if a bunch of events depend on the Dark Portal being open, well then, those events do have to happen after a canonical opening.
  * According to the gamepedia article on Thalassian, "Elor bindel felallan morin'aminor" means "Sleep forever in quiet serenity" (per a Sean Copeland tweet).
  * Kael's grandfather: I wrote a bit more about this in the note I added to chapter 3, but yeah, I'm headcanoning this too. Anasterian would have had to have been only 200 or so when he negotiated (in 2800 BCE) with the humans  for help with the Amani and in return sent elves to teach 100 humans the secrets of magic. Considering how isolationist Anasterian seems to have been, I think it's just as easy to attribute this to the unknown Sunstrider that ruled between Dath'remar and Anasterian.  
  * **Duskwalker:** my own creation, a sort of cross between a rogue and a dark ranger.
  * Forsaken: I asked JackofNone about the meaning of this appellation, and in return [a wonderful meta post ](http://silverrnotumble.tumblr.com/post/132582562522/the-forsaken-is-an-%0A%0Aevocative-curious-choice-of)came into being: 
  * Thanks once again to Mipe for allowing me to bounce endless ideas.
  * The second of each of the two red-curtained arches in the Shrine of the Eclipse has just enough space for a narrow, single person bedroll. I have screenshots to prove it.
  * According to Vargoth's journal, the area known as Netherstorm once looked like Westfall. I've described it as more like the jungle-ish areas of Gorgrond as they appeared on the AU Draenor.  
  




* * *

Chapter 16: Ethereals

  * **Source:** This chapter and the next are based on various Burning Crusade quest lines from Hellfire Peninsula, Terokkar,  Netherstorm, and Bloodmyst Isle. 
  * **NPC Count:** 20 appearing; 5 additional mentioned **  
**
  * **OC Count:** 2 **  
**
  * A thank you to **little-ojousama** for blue dragon and surge needle research.
  * According to the quest given by Exarch Larethor at Magister's Terrace: _"The Legion and Kael'thas' forces are becoming increasingly intertwined. This concerns me very deeply. From what we can gather Selin Fireheart and Priestess Delrissa work closely together to unite the two armies."_
  * The names of the two ethereal OCs (who are modelled on one of WoW's other "odd couples') are based on Finnish words.  **Loistavat** can mean either "glowing" or "excellent" - similar to the English world "brilliant" — while **siteet** can describe all sorts of bindings, including social connections… so you have a name that could be read as "Excellent Connections" or "Glowing Bandages" ~ **Kajo** or **Kajastus** for the other one (meaning a more distant glow, like that of a dawn) ~ **varkaus** which literally means theft; **takaisinotto** , meaning repossession.  The partnership is between a thief and a repossesser. Thus when Kajastus says "Siteet is Varkaus. I am Takaisinotto" what he's really saying is "Siteet is a thief. I am a repossessor."
  * **M'uru** Canonically first seen by Astalor on the Tempest Bridge, in the "sapped naaru" image the undarkened top of M'uru's head is light gold/champagne color.  
  




* * *

Chapter 17: Tempest Keep and Kirin Var Village

  * **Source:** Primarily various _Burning Crusade_ quests and flavor text, with some inferences drawn from _Wrath of the Lich King_ quests.
  * **NPC count** : 21 appearing; 20 additional mentioned.
  * **OC count** :  None: "Sirona Sorrowsun" is actually Sironas.
  * I refer to **Master Daelis Dawnstrike** as a Farstrider, but if he was put in charge of Kael's forces — which would have included newly-minted Blood Knights — then he might have worn the BK tabard even though he's an archer (i.e., a Farstrider).
  * I wasn't certain when the **gnomes** officially joined the Alliance (my lore experts say @time of the Second War, but they were occupied with internal troubles at the time of the Third), and whether Kael canonically would have known of them, but since we already had Nima in an earlier chapter  I'm adding a mention here, even if only as a brief hat-tip.
  * Although **Xevozz** 's affiliation isn't stated, the red energy/purple robe model is used by the Zaxxis ethereals, a group that will later break away from the Consortium (presumably after Ambassador Solannas' death, when diplomatic relations between the elves and the Consortium soured). Though I didn't state it outright, my headcanon is that Pathaleon got his infamous projector ("Wanted: Pathaleon's Projector") when Xevozz was still with the Consortium (although the quest—now redacted —claimed that Pathaleon acquired the projector from "Zaxxis rebels.")
  * The description of the **mana bomb** and its use is from the quest "The Unending Invasion." Morran says that the mana bomb landed "in the officer's quarters to the northwest"; but the fragment (55, 87)  is almost directly west of him (57, 86).
  * The various quests related to the Violet Tower in Kirin Var Village reveal that **Ar'kelos** is giving off a dampening field that prevents [Archmage Vargoth](http://wow.gamepedia.com/Archmage_Vargoth) from using his magic, which is why Vargoth can't simply just kill the golem himself.  In the quest "The Keymaster" Vargoth has this to say: _"It doesn't surprise me that Kael'thas has put the key to this ward in the hands of someone like Commander Sarannis. Prince Kael'thas is a great many things, but he is no simpleton. In order to break this curse once and for all, you must enter Tempest Keep and claim the keystone."_
  * The "Glacious sapphire" winds up in the possession of Kanthin the Summoner.
  * Vargoth claimed that Kael attacked Kirin Var with an interdimensional vessel: in [Vargoth's journal](http://wow.gamepedia.com/Excerpts_from_the_Journal_of_Archmage_Vargoth) he says that Kael used "thousands of troops" and more than one "dimensional ship" in addition to the mana bomb, but this is likely the exaggeration of a panicked moment; Kael likely had only dozens or hundreds, and only one ship — the fleeing Exodar.
  * There are references that state that KVV was destroyed before the Exodar escaped Outland, which only makes sense if Velen _et al_ hid out on the Exodar until most of Kael's forces were at KVV.
  * Given Telestra's mission against the Kirin Tor in Northrend during WotLK, her interactions with ethereals there, and her position as Kael's mentor, it seemed plausible to me to headcanon that she would manipulate Kael into destroying Kirin Var Village.
  * Sironas' TCG card says "The draenei's fatal flaw is their trusting nature."
  * Sironas' original model was a draenei wearing what looked like [PvP Warlock gear ](http://www.wowhead.com/transmog-set=824/champions-dreadgear)
  * During the quest "What We Don't Know" (where you disguise yourself as a blood elf to extract information from a Sunhawk agent) it's claimed that Sironas had been living among the draenei for 'a very long time.' I find this is a bit puzzling, since if KJ knew where the drae were, why didn't he move against them? My headcanon is that he wanted to capture (not kill) Velen, and so was taking his time.  
  




* * *

Chapter 18: Wretched betrayals

  * **Source:** BC quest text **  
**
  * **NPC Count:** 13 **  
**
  * **OC Count: --  
**
  * The opening quote is what Kael says just before using Gravity Lapse in Tempest Keep.
  * One of the things I really wanted to account for were the legendary weapons Kael summons during the Tempest Keep raid encounter. I tried to lay the groundwork for Kael's weapon mastery early, by having him essentially disenchanting damaged weapons while a Kirin Tor apprentice.
  * The dagger Kael conjures is the Infinity Blade.
  * I loved BC, I levelled many toons through BC, but it wasn't until I was writing this that I finally grasped that Kil'jaeden was using Kael to gather the ata'mal. It made sense to me that he would send the mo'arg and gan'arg to The Mechanar and The Eye (and Netherstorm manaforges) to help with the mana-cube production.
  * Though Sanguinar is handled a bit hastily, I really wanted to develop all four of Kael's Tempest Keep Advisors, as well as the elven bosses of The Mechanar and The Botanica.
  * I also wanted to roll in as much of the lore in the draenei starting area as I could.
  * Timelines continue to be a nightmare. In terms of WoW gameplay, obviously the Dark Portal had to open at some point so that player characters could begin levelling through Outland (and get to 70 so that they could defeat Kael, Vashj, and Illidan); however, between initial inconsistencies and the various retcons stemming from the novels and Chronicles, at any one time at least half of it is pretty much a mess. I matched up what I could and, tried to hew to a strict logical _sequence_ of events while being vague about the time between each event.
  * One of the places I actually resequenced a little was regarding the red crystals in HFP and the mana bombs in Terokkar. I did some smudging and some reinterpretation: the 'bleeding' Exodar dropped the red crystals as it escaped; the Cenarions blamed and attacked the elves ( as well as the naga in Zangarmarsh); the bomb from Kirin Var was reverse-engineered and tested at Cenarion Thicket, with a larger bomb being constructed at Firewing Point for use on an undisclosed target.
  * I knew for awhile that I wanted a spy in Kael's inner circle. Initially it was a "touch averse" female elf they'd rescued in the Dalaran prison. then for a while I had the idea of a ghost of either Anasterian or Antonidas. Neither idea clicked. However, as soon as I saw Thaladred and Tichondrius listed side by side, sharing that epithet, I had my click. The fact that Kael so pointedly announces "Thaladred, the Darkener" in Tempest Keep. The fact that I could invent a chain from Tichondrius' 'death' in Felwood, a chain that would go from Illidan to Lan'thel to Thaladred. Tich at first hitchhiking to keep an eye on Illidan for KJ, then jumping to Lana'thel to observe Kael and his people (and also because it might have looked as though Illidan was about to be re-captured). Having Ti in Lana gives some foundation to KJ's subsequent comment to Illidan that "these servitors you've gathered show some promise," especially if we assume KJ has received Ti's first-hand reports.
  * Like most, I ran Tempest Keep for years on several alts trying to get the mount. Even when BC was current I had noticed that Kael has a unique, and somewhat unappealing, model. His face seemed oddly lit from below at times, as though there was a greenish glow inside the collar of his robe; and his hair! Even player models had better. At some point I got the notion that his hair was a wig; and then, once I saw his state in Magisters' Terrace, his chest pierced by a glowing fel crystal, I decided that his appearance was in reality a glamour, because he was already Wretched.



 

* * *

Chapter 19: Kil'jaeden's punishments, Kil'jaeden's plans

  * **Source:** BC quest text **  
**
  * **NPC Count:** 11
  * **OC Count: --  
**
  * The quotation that opens the chapter is what Kil'jaeden says as he emerges from the Sunwell at the beginning of his raid encounter.
  * The first time you kill Kael in Tempest Keep, a Verdant Sphere quest item drops. This item, when turned in in Shattrath, used to (maybe still does?) trigger a scripted event that everyone could see and hear, where a ghostly projection of Kael appears to taunt A'dal. It leaves behind a faint, fiery phoenix symbol.
  * The unnamed location where Kael 'comes to' after Shattrath is Hellfire Peninsula's Throne of Kil'jaeden.
  * And, of course, the Ashes of Al'ar.
  * Canonical lore has no explanation for Kael's chest crystal (at least not yet: Chronicles 3 might change that), but making it a literal 'soul stone' allows Kael to be killed and resurrected over and over again in Tempest Keep. (See above re: green upglow.)
  * Oh, and it always struck me as odd that Kael, a mage, had mass rez during the Tempest Keep encounter… but then again, except for the first time, we're not really killing the actual advisors. Only Kael.
  * Invading Silvermoon with felbloods to steal M'uru never made sense to me until I realized that it was probably bait for Velen.
  * The scenes with Anveena, Kalecgos, and Sathrovarr are invented, but attempt to bridge the gap between the end of the manga and the beginning of the Sunwell Plateau raid.
  * Though I can't now recall if Sathrovarr says it, his "Dream!" here is based on Dantalionax's "Sleep now!" emote in Black Rook Hold.
  * Kael siphoning from Selin is another slashy headcanon of mine.
  * The "quotation" at the end of the chapter is a parody of the inscription on Dath'Remar's monument.



 

.....................

Chapter 20: Magister's Terrace

  * **Source:** BC quest text
  * **NPC Count:** 12
  * **OC Count: --  
**



 

.....................

 

 

author's notes last edited 29 August 2017

**Author's Note:**

> Like many fans, I loved the noble and slightly irritable Kael'thas of Warcraft III. As I also loved the Burning Crusade expansion from its very first day with a deep, fiery passion, you can understand how Kael's sudden turn to villainy in patch 2.4.3 broke my heart. It felt as though character assassination had occurred, and like many, I mourned.
> 
> But then a pile of little things started to snag my attention. The mutual hostility and suspicion between Kael and Illidan that's evidenced in the Warden's Cage quests in Shadowmoon Valley. The weird green upglow that seems to come from inside Kael's robe in Tempest Keep. Kael'thas' ridiculously OTT speechifying in Magister's Terrace. Kil'jaeden's angry "What have you done?" at the end of the Sunwell raid. 
> 
> All this kept swirling around in my head, and by the time the Northrend expansion came out I began to see a way to weave that noble elf of WC3 into the wretched Legion lackey of Magister's Terrace. By 2011 the swirls had coalesced into an outline, and a title, and an ending. I posted a prologue in 2012, but then life and other interests intervened—but always, in the back of my mind, was the story I wanted to tell about Kael.
> 
> When I came back to work on _Deceiver_ in March 2014 word was that Mickey Nielson had an official "villain story" for Kael'thas in process. Knowing that whatever I was concocting would be jossed at some point wasn't an issue, since for me a primary pleasure of writing fanfiction is the challenge of creating a story arc that passes through as much of a character's canonical behavior (and as many canonical events) as possible. It's a glorified game of connect the dots, but I figure that everyone's going to weave their own path through the dots.
> 
> For Kael, those 'dots' are the following:  
> a) He was a member the Kirin Tor and on the Council of Six by the time of the Second War;  
> b) he unsuccessfully wooed Jaina Proudmoore;  
> c) he objected to Nathanos Marris' induction into the Rangers;  
> d) he was opposed to the orc internment camps;  
> e) he teamed up with Illidan; and  
> f) he ultimately became the servant of Kil'jaeden.
> 
> I identified these facts and worked out my timelines using currently-available information from wowpedia-based research and lore columnists (although I chose not to read the _Arthas_ novel or anything (other than _Blood of the Highborne_ ) that Blizzard has published since 2009 until after I posted chapter 14.) ~ (And yes, this means that most of my knowledge of lore predates the _Chronicles_ retcons. So be it.) ~ I've treated certain Burning Crusade quests and game encounters as valid source material, along with characters, events, and information from the Warcraft RTS games, various Warcraft short stories and graphic novels, and the RPG manuals. Some of those are considered semi- or non-canonical at this point, but to me they're still part of the Warcraft universe. Where canon was vague or undeveloped, I charged in and made things up; where it was contradictory, I tried to blend. All in all, I've certainly had a lot of fun along with the inevitable frustration. ~ If you have any questions about why I've done what I've done (or want to read even more author's notes), comment here, or go to my [Deceiver blog entry](http://silverr.dreamwidth.org/24252.html), or write to me at silverr1@gmail.com. (I'm also happy to IM or skype; email me for contact info.)
> 
> And now for more acknowledgements! _Deceiver_ wouldn't have been possible without **Wanda von Dunayev.** Wanda was an articulate and knowledgeable guide during this story's gestation: without our lengthy discussions of plot and lore my determination to create my own version of Kael'thas would have died years ago. Wanda was also the source of several ideas developed here (such as Eldin), and pointed me to various facts that became diving boards (such as the fact that the Dungeon Journal entry for Grand Magus Telestra mentions Kael'thas). More recently **Bryn** and **Mipeltaja** have been excellent idea bouncers and beta readers, and have several times reminded me of minor characters that deserved a place in the story. ~ Finally, a very special thank you **Bluerose** , whose video of SK Gaming's world first Kil'jaeden takedown has been my "pilot light" for years: every time I watched that video or listened to the excellently-edited audio track, it refreshed my memories of the fun I had playing in the WoW universe.
> 
> P.S. Comments—short or long, anonymous or not—are always welcome. (Although it's appreciated if you avoid spoilers <3.)


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